


Flock of Vandals

by Progman



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Politics, Anarchy, Butterfly Effect, Clusterfuck, Conspiracy, Control, Deconstruction, Gen, Humor, Identity Issues, Masks, Murphy's Law In Space, Mystery, NO SERIOUSLY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, Plot First; Romance Third, Power Play, Science Fiction, True Freedom, Tupari, WTF, Women Being Awesome, what the fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 64,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Progman/pseuds/Progman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine months before the geth attacked Eden Prime, Shepard was dishonorably discharged for assaulting a superior officer. Soon after, she established a working partnership with Zaeed Massani, and the duo proved to be the most effective mercenaries in the Terminus. But when a chance encounter with a certain spectre turns violent, everything goes straight to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Property Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE 10/20/14: Removed massively unnecessary globs of A/N.
> 
> So here's my attempt at an AU, as well as several self-imposed writing challenges rolled into one. I was inspired to try my own hand at an effective, fleshed out and distinct AU by LogicalPremise's "Of Sheep and Battle Chicken", though any and all similarities between the two, of which there are very, very few, are completely coincidental.
> 
> That dude's the man, though. Check out his work if you haven't already. It's out on FF.net!
> 
> As always, this was beta'd by the stupidly talented and insightful BSG-Legacy. Without him, I wouldn't be half the writer I am today. Every kind word you've given me so far has also been to him.
> 
> Bioware owns All, etc

The pirate queen of Omega's master bedroom was a hot mess of tangled sheets, burnt out candles, discarded clothing that could be anyone's, and quite a bit of rope hanging over the furniture. It was dark, spacious, and lavish, all of the light coming from the wall sized windows overlooking the murky brown cityscape of the station.

Shepard sighed as their shallow bond melted away, leaving her light and boneless. She ran her fingers through her short black hair, now thick with sweat, and slowly sat up on the bed. Shepard stole a few cheeky glances at Aria's bare form, only to have them returned with a flicker of disdain in the asari's eyes.

"If you keep getting caught up in the 'afterglow', Shepard, I'm not going to invite you over anymore." Aria turned away, now very disinterested with the human. "You did your job, admirably, so go get dressed and be on your way."

"Charming." Shepard crooked her lips to the side, frustrated that she had indeed let the rush of endorphins wash over her a bit more powerfully than usual. "The least you could do is not treat me like some common whore, Aria."

"Adorable." Aria chuckled into a loud laugh at that. The asari grabbed Shepard's head violently, and twisted her around to face her. "Tell me, why do you think I should do that, hm? What possible reason could be floating around in that big head of yours?"

Shepard felt her heartbeat skyrocket and she froze in place, not wanting to give the other woman any reason to easily snap her neck. "...because I don't take payment. I'm not a prostitute. You call me, I come. No questions asked."

"Wrong." Aria narrowed her eyes and gripped the humans cheeks more firmly. "I pay you take care of things for me, and to take care of me.", she said with a smug smile. "Why else do you think your little payments have doubled, hm?" She crushed her lips against Shepard's, violently assaulting her mouth with her tongue.

Shepard shuddered and jerked her head away from Aria, pushing herself off of the bed. She covered the mark on her sternum and fought every urge to just stab the pirate queen in the throat. "I told you I didn't want to be paid for sex, Aria. I can be a weapon for you, but I don't want to be a toy." Shepard buried her rage and spoke evenly, not wanting to incite the asari's wrath. "Do you own me?", she asked, knowing she had no say in the matter.

Aria stared at Shepard with a flat expression. She'd seen the mark on her sternum many times, and more importantly knew exactly what it was. The pirate queen of Omega wasn't easily impressed, much less humbled, but anyone capable of surviving that mark, and remaining their own person, deserved to be cut a little slack now and then.

A little.

"If I owned you, you'd know. Get over yourself, Shepard. You don't pay a slave." She scoffed, turning away again, now very much bored with this conversation. "And as queen, I take my purchases very seriously. Any whore under me would be groveling when she wasn't...otherwise under me."

Shepard felt a wave of relief wash over her, softening the fire that was gathering in her belly for the moment. She scoffed and walked toward the table with her neatly arranged belongings. "Really? I was under the impression that you didn't take the queen thing seriously.", she said, trying very hard to keep things less hostile from now on. The thought of getting on Aria's shit list terrified her. "Then again, the lack of a proper crown is a bit odd."

Aria laughed once and grew a smug smirk.. "Since you're so convinced, get your ass back in bed and service me." She narrowed her eyes. "Whore."

Shepard threw on her 'off-duty' clothes, composed of a worn leather jacket, pants, boots and a collared shirt. The outfit, very much on purpose, had several dozen hiding places for weapons of all sorts. Despite her overwhelming desire to gut Aria in two, she'd lose that fight every time. "Oof, rookie mistake, Aria. Whores didn't fuck the queen." She glanced at the asari sidelong as she slipped her hidden gear into place. "That would be the job of a noble, or a king."

Aria scoffed. "Patriarch doesn't have the quad to try it….even if he still had them.", she said in a vaguely threatening tone.

Shepard shrugged. "Then I guess you'll have to make me a duke, or something. After you hire me to commit regicide by poisoning his cup with a very large bomb, of course." Shepard patted herself down, double checking that her everything was well hidden where it was supposed to be, and would pass most spot checks outside of C-SEC Omega, wondering where your gun was would get you killed, but wondering which one to use was quite the different story.

Aria waved her off. "He's not worth the effort. I have another job for you, though. If you're interested."

Shepard rested her palm on the table, closed her eyes, and sent out a faint biotic pulse. The tiny, round mass-effect field expanded like sonar, allowing her to sense the shifts in mass of her surroundings. After her first week on the station, where no less than four slaver gangs had tried to ambush her in her own apartment, she'd made it a habit to check every so often if she was ever stationary for so long. Most of the time, it was just a precautionary measure. Sadly, this was not one of those times.

There was someone else in the room with them.

Shepard's blue-grey eyes snapped open, thriving in the low light, old training kicking in as her attention snaps from wall to wall. She saw movement, a faint shimmering haze a few dozen feet away, but looked straight through it. "Always, but I've got a good idea of what it might be." Shepard looked back at Aria, who rolled her eyes at the obvious cloaked assassin. She walked briskly toward the armory, a set of neatly arranged weapon racks and workbenches, making sure her path intersected with the mysterious figure.

Aria waited patiently for the figure to attempt something, cleaning the dirt from her fingernails."I figured as much. There's a rumor going around. One I don't particularly like, since it involves my head on a pike and shipped back to the Citadel", she yelled mockingly. "Or maybe it's to the Broker, or Thessia, or Palaven!" She hummed noncommittally. "Fix it. Dou-Triple, your standard rate. I'm in a generous mood, go figure."

Shepard smirked just as she passed the figure. "Deal." She whirled around, ejected the cut down Predator she had concealed in her sleeve, brought the pistol to bear on the cloaked figure's head and stabbed one of her concealed knives straight into it's shoulder. "You move, you die. Are we clear?"

The figure decloaked, revealing a very enraged asari in jet-black armor, riddled with muddy gang markings, armed to the teeth. "Fuck you-" The asari shrieked as Shepard twisted her blade, forcing the asari's knees to buckle. "CLEAR! You crazy bitch! We're clear!" The trespasser struggled to breathe, each breath becoming more labored and stunted than the last.

"Good choice." Shepard reached into her belt and snapped a pulse-suppression collar onto the asari, giving her a rather painful shock as it shunted and stopped her biotics entirely.

"You know that might have worked if either of us were brain dead." Aria glared at the other asari and gave her a slow, obnoxious clap. "You got so far, little girl. Farther than most, but not far enough." She lazily hopped off of the bed and strode toward her spacious walk-in closet. "Break her down for me, will you? I have a lot more to do today, and the last thing I need is some uppity bitch distracting me from it."

"You got it." Shepard pulled her knife out and stuck her thumb in the wound while she stripped the asari of her weaponry, scattering them just out of arm's reach. "...wait." She furrowed her brow, screwed up her face and stared at the asari. "...were you watching us?"

"No!" The asari blushed despite her anger. "Of course not! Why would you ask that?!"

Shepard snarled, tore off the asari's helmet, and ripped the recording hardware out of it's frame. "Probably because of the helmet cam." She squeezed the components between her fingers and focused a small warp field onto it, melting away it's structure to allow her to physically crush it into dust. "I'd cut that memory out of your head myself if Aria didn't want you for something worse."

"Oh, this one is just as stupid as they come." Aria laughed loudly as she reemerged from the closet, donning her typical outfit of a white vest and repurposed huntress leathers. "Shattering her mind and purging those memories is going to be all the more sweet." She snapped her fingers. "Quickly now, Shepard, we're all busy people and I don't need your hesitance toward torture getting in my way." She tapped herself into her comm network, keeping both eyes trained on the asari. "Grizz, what's the security detail's status?"

Shepard rolled her eyes and methodically disassembled the asari's armor power plant. "Got a name?", she asked the trespasser.

" _They're not responding to comms, but our positional data says they're still at their post. Actually...they haven't moved at all in two hours. Huh."_

The asari scoffed. "Yeah. It's fuck off-" The pistol round shredding through her calf's armor plating and straight into the bone cut her off. She roared in agony, dropping on her side as purple blood pooled at her feet. "...fuck, fuck, it's..." The trespasser jerked her head toward Shepard, now towering above her, smoking gun in her hand. "..L-l...Lyrali! Lyrali T'Koma!"

Aria scowled. "Don't worry about the gunshot. That's just Shepard prepping a little would-be assassin. Who apparently walked straight through a dozen of our best men without so much as an alarm!" She narrowed her eyes at Lyrali. "Send Bray and his men down here to investigate, and to replace them, if needed."

" _They're on their way. Anything else?"_

Aria growled "...inform all of our forces that I'm going to be reinstating the Hunt, and to put themselves on standby. If they ask when, tell them..." She eyed Shepard thoughtfully. "...soon." The pirate queen killed her comms bent down next to Lyrali, her eyes flickering with menace. "Lyrali T'Koma. Well, now we have a new face of idiocy, don't we? I believe that I've already established my zero-tolerance policy for both bullshit and noncompliance, so let's not waste words while you continue to waste blood.", she said speaking with absolute malice.

Lyrali scowled even more, if that were possible. "Fine. Who the hell is the bitch with the knives, then? Only half a greeting-" A swift kick to the jaw by Shepard's boot stopped her short, spurting blood and saliva onto the floor. This time, Lyrali remained silent.

"Karen Shepard, not that it matters." Shepard nodded at the asari's compliance and picked up one of her fallen weapons, a cut down M-6 Carnifex. "...you know, I've always wanted one of these. They're a pain in the ass to find, though." She sighted the pistol straight between Lyrali's eyes and swiftly mounted it where her Predator had been. "For now, I'm borrowing this."

Aria shook her head and grabbed Lyrali's throat powerfully, not enough to choke her, but it was very, very close. "Oh, just say it's yours. She'll be dead in a few minutes, and I don't plan on contacting her next of kin or shipping her crap back home.", she growled, almost annoyed at Shepard's slight sense of manners.

"Fine. Mine.", said Shepard, knowing that it was often better for everyone to just agree with Aria. "I'd have gotten more out of her, but you've expressed that you prefer to do this kind of work personally." Shepard casually gripped the asari's other arm, the one not connected to the knife wound, and violently twisted, snapping the bone in half. She rose to her feet above the asari's shriek, and took a step back, crossing her arms. "She's prepped. Can't run, shoot, or use her biotics."

Aria rolled her eyes. "Then how am I supposed to interrogate her, Shepard? Biotics and melding use the same neural pathways." She shook her head in frustration as she fiddled with the collar. "Don't humans take classes on galactic culture and biology in school? Or are you just that old?"

"Uhh, yeah. Sort of." Shepard shrugged laxly, looking away from the two asari. "I don't remember most of the anatomy stuff.", she said, as old memories of her school, home and farm engulfed in flames flashed through her mind's eye. "Turian cock structure didn't seem all that important or enticing at the time."

"Considering your recent change of heart about asari, I have a feeling you're going to regret not paying more attention to that…"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "It wasn't sex-ed, Aria. Teaching kids how to fuck other species is just…" She shuddered at the thought of her thirteen year old self learning how to physically please a turian. "...fucked up."

Aria stopped removing the collar to look up at Shepard, genuinely confused. "...humans don't do that?"

Shepard widened her eyes. "Don't do what? Interspecies sexual education? No, of course not! Why would anyone teach something like that in a formal setting?!"

"You mean what the asari have been doing for millennia, Shepard? Or have you forgotten even more from those classes than you thought?" Aria stared at Shepard for a long moment. "It's astounding how naive you can be."

"You're shitting me. Asari actually do that."

"How else would we learn without proper instruction, Shepard?" Aria sighed, tired of Shepard's inability to see the obvious truth. "It's not as if our entire race is based upon the ideal of diversifying our genetics-" She waved Shepard off, bored. "Nevermind, just be quiet and watch out for stray vorcha, or something."

As the pirate queen unlocked the restraint, she glowered at the other asari as violently as she could muster. The collar fell to the floor with a loud clang. "There we are." She grabbed Lyrali's head forcefully, crushing it between her palms as her eyes swirled into a black void. "Now let's find out what she knows.", she growled, initiating the meld.

Shepard stared at the joined pair for a moment and yawned. She'd forgotten that watching two asari meld wasn't exactly the same as watching a regular couple have sex, in the way that it wasn't even the least bit interesting from the outside. At least, not this particular kind of joining. No movement, no sound. She felt a little jealous of Lyrali, who at least got a good show before getting caught.

Shepard winced, and was for once very glad that Aria was aggressive enough to do these things personally. Since Aria was, for the moment, indisposed, she thought it best to make sure that they were secure. It wasn't that she distrusted the professionalism of Aria's people, far from it, but clarification never hurt anyone. She walked over to the nearby intercom panel and clicked it on. "This is Shepard. Is the exterior secure?"

No response.

Shepard raised a brow. "Uhh, hello?"

" _Shepard! It's Bray. My team and I just arrived. Is Aria with you?"_

Shepard looked over at the still frozen pair, noting Aria's face was locked in the most rage fueled expression she'd ever seen. "Technically. She's inside of some wannabe assassin at the moment." It almost looked like she was caught in intense biotic combat, her mouth wide open in a silent roar. Her fingernails were digging into Lyrali's cheeks, drawing purple blood that coupled well with the younger asari's muted fear plain on her face. "...it's freaking me out a little, how frozen they are. Aren't they supposed to be moving for dominance, or something?"

" _Hey, I'm just as lost as you are. As long as she's not dead or dying, you're fine. Anyway, That assassin is going to be the least of her problems, most likely. The security detail is...well, let's just say we can't tell where their blood begins and the vorcha bodies end. They got torn apart by…"_ He paused for a few seconds. " _I'm going to be honest with you, Shepard. I have never seen Vorcha that could claw through heavy armor like this. Some of these guys are just...meat."_

"What? How the hell did vorcha even get up here?" Shepard took another glance at the melded duo, and widened her eyes as it became clear that they were both starting to move, albeit slowly. Aria was adding more pressure to Lyrali's head while the assassin was reaching for her shotgun. "Shit, they're moving. Okay, good luck."

" _You too, Shepard."_

Shepard cut the line and sprinted over to the pair, snatching up all the weaponry near them and quickly disassembling them on one of the armory's workbenches. When she got back inside the main area, Aria had pinned Lyrali to the floor, though oddly still seemed to be struggling with making the final kill.

Shepard felt her gut scream something. Loud and fast. It was that feeling, the one she always had when something just wasn't right, amplified. Her short time on Omega had given her countless opportunities to improve her understanding of this part of her that was so accurate it may as well have been extrasensory. She reached out with her biotics, performing another sonar-pulse, and found nothing. Still, she took a closer look around the room, checking the reinforced windows for breaches or micro-filament explosives with an omni-tool scan.

Shepard frowned, reading that the scan had only picked up the interlaced polymer-composite in every mil-spec pane of glass. Aria had even gotten it redone in the last week, apparently, as the data plainly stated that the material was relatively fresh. She turned around, watching as Aria's body became covered in surging dark energy.

Shepard shielded her eyes from the blinding light and stepped closer. "...what the hell?"

Paintings, tables, pillows and other light décor began to rattle and shake. Shepard looked down to see the entire floor start quake. "What...the hell have I gotten myself into?" The furniture slowly floated into mid-air, attempting to carry Shepard with them. She grounded herself with a nullifying high-mass field and drew her new Carnifex, stepping carefully to the joined pair. Just as she started to move, a bolt of blue fire arced out of Aria and tore through the walls and ceiling, leaving a long line of melted metal in it's wake.

Shepard cursed loudly and sprinted away from the pirate queen. Another bolt surged out of Aria, causing even more destruction. Shepard threw herself to the floor, shielding herself from the blaring biotic storm that was rapidly engulfing all the bedroom. The entire room shuddered and creaked as if it were being torn from it's foundation.

Finally, Aria broke her silence with a raging, blood thirsty roar that seemed to have no end or limit to volume. She heard a loud, shattering crack, and could only hope that was Lyrali's skull and not one of the suite's support columns.

At that, Shepard considered why she was even staying, since loyalty to Aria really wasn't one of her priorities if it was going to get her killed rather than being granted the right to live. At any rate, it didn't matter. She couldn't leave without being torn in half by the blinding typhoon flowing above her. Still, she did her best to crawl toward the exit, increasing her mass as high as she safely could.

Shepard, knowing that shooting an asari during a meld would most likely utterly destroy the other's mind in the process, did the only thing she could do. Get angry. "ARIA! I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T CUT THIS BULLSHIT OUT RIGHT NOW I'LL-"

A supernova detonated in the center of the pair, sending Shepard flying into the back wall with enough force to shatter her spine. She frantically wrapped herself in a low-mass field to soften the impact. Shepard hit the wall hard, definitely enough to leave a nasty bruise all over her right side, but she'd live. For now.

Shepard tumbled to the ground, sharp pain radiating through her shoulder, and craned her neck toward the smoking crater in the center of the room. Virtually all of Aria's apartment was either on fire, had been on fire, or was turned to ash. Half of Aria's clothes were smoldering, and Lyrali's armor had literally melted. The pirate queen looked entirely drained, her purple skin pale and her body shaking from over exertion. Lyrali was faring much worse, as it became clear that Aria's mind had, eventually, managed to overpower her own by sheer brute force. Her entire head was caved in.

Shepard managed to scramble to her feet and remount her cut-down Carnifex. "What the fuck was that, Aria?! Are you ok?" She choked, waving away the smoke filled air. "You were in there for six minutes!"

Aria panted heavily, her body drenched in sweat. "...six...Goddess..." She attempted to stand, only manage to stumble forward into Shepard's arms like dead weight. The Pirate Queen of Omega was as weak as a drunken maiden, and Shepard knew it. "Shepard. She took something...out of my head. I need you to-"

Bray, a barrel chested batarian that was a head and shoulders taller than Shepard, burst through the front door down the hall with two dozen of Omega's best. He surged toward the bedroom, the rattle of heavy boots nothing compared to the recently weathered storm. "Shit." He looked at Shepard, surprisingly unhostile. "What the hell happened in here?"

Aria's head lolled, putting all of her weight on Shepard for support. "...little bitch was one of those…" She took, quick, shallow breaths, fighting to stay awake. "...mutants. Rekshi. Daywind." The pirate queen gritted her teeth and her eyes widened. "...glass. Move. G...glass…"

"She might be delirious." Shepard looked between Aria and Bray. "...I think my translator crapped out. No idea what a...Rekshi is."

"No, I didn't get it either." Bray grunted and shook his head. "Might be something old. Or gibberish." He cracked his neck and beckoned to his men. "Alright! Sassisk, your team secures Aria. Contingency 4." He gestured curtly toward a rather tall, blue skinned salarian who saluted and moved to do as he was told. Shepard nodded and tried to transfer Aria's deadweight to the Salarian without dropping her."The rest of you, we're running interference! Everyone is paying their dues early, because the queen is just-"

The massive, panoramic windows exploded inward in a lattice, sending long shards of industrial glass straight at them. Transparent lances shredded through armor and bone, ripping apart nearly all of Aria's men. Shepard barely had enough time to yank Bray and Aria, and by extension Sassik, to the ground and shield them with the strongest bubble she could muster. The shrapnel deflected harmlessly off of the barrier, which quickly dissipated.

"EVERYONE! MOVE!"

Thick, black smog flowed into the apartment as Bray and the rest of his men quickly hauled Aria's barely conscious body to safety. Shepard, having deflected the brunt of the explosion and shrapnel, could only hear ringing as she tried to catch her breath. After mentally kicking herself for not realizing that Aria would need entirely new windows to reinforce them, she rolled her shoulders and thrust out her hands, sending a light biotic wave over the room to clear the black smog.

The apartment cleared, allowing for Omega's poor excuse for a sun to shine through the empty windows, and revealed a very focused helmeted Asari in elegant, masterfully crafted armor, removing a small grey box from Lyrali's open skull. Shepard ejected her cut-down Carnifex and emptied her clip, rapid fire, as she moved closer, wrapping her body in dark energy.

The asari turned to look at her, almost annoyed rather than surprised, as the rounds deflected harmlessly off of her high-tech armor and kinetic barriers. "Hm. That's a new one." She clipped the grey box to her belt and casually drew her sidearm, a weapon Shepard had never seen before, and sighted it straight at her. "Whatever poor excuse for biotics you have in store for me can't-"

Shepard didn't need another hint. She hurled herself into a near-zero mass-effect channel, in an effort to slam her body into the asari at subsonic speeds. Much to her surprise, however, the asari had managed to divert her charge trajectory, using a level of biotic mastery Shepard had only dreamed about, two feet off target. "...how did you-"

The asari quickly grabbed Shepard by the neck, and hoisted her up. "Skill. Centuries of experience." She holstered her sidearm, and strengthened her grip on the human. "Most of all, I'm not stupid enough to think that speed equates invincibility."

"Yeah? Well…" Shepard choked and struggled to get out a snarky retort. "...same goes for…" She flicked her wrists, revealing two small, warming up heat knives. "...standing still!" Shepard stabbed her searing monomolecular blades into the asari's flanks, just above her waist. They dug in deep, and the asari dropped Shepard with a surprised yelp, falling on all fours.

Shepard hit the ground hard, coughing and forcing herself to regain her composure long enough to get the hell out of there. Thinking fast, she planted a small, rudimentary single-receiver tracker on the asari's sidearm and snatched the greybox off of her belt while the other woman was still paralyzed from the deep, cauterizing wound.

Escape routes were minimal, at best. Normally, taking either the stairs or the elevators would be the safest way out. This asari complicated things. There was no way to guarantee she'd even be able to make it to the front door before the asari recovered, and even if she did, Shepard's odds of survival only got lower. She couldn't outrun the asari down the stairs, and the elevators could be easily biotically crushed around her or melted from warp fire.

The only option left to her was the stupid one. Jumping out of the window that the asari just blew open and using her biotics to slow her fall. Biotic base jumping was something she hadn't done in years, but it was the only path that didn't end in certain death.

"...this is a really bad idea...", she muttered under her breath.

Shepard sprinted toward the massive, empty window panes, slipping the greybox to her belt and ejecting the spent heat knives with a flick of her wrists. "I may be impulsive, but I'm not arrogant! Couldn't kill you a minute ago, can't kill you now!" She took a deep breath, and, despite her best judgement, base-jumped out of the fiftieth story penthouse suite.

-(|)-

Tela Vasir was not amused. She'd just gotten stabbed with knives designed to cut through heavy mechs and krogan, but for some reason they'd found themselves in her flesh, catching her off guard in a way that only a stupid, reckless human could have thought of. The Spectre grunted to her feet, taking quick stock of the rampant destruction her finely tuned plan had wrought.

Everything was either on fire, had been on fire, or was turned to ash, and it wasn't clear who had done what, or what had happened in the confusion. Ideally, multiple groups would claim responsibility, and Aria's people would wipe them out, which would most likely save someone quite a bit of work.

Vasir winced and applied medigel to her wounds, the mimetic biofoam easing the pain of the third degree burns on her sides. With the exception of that human, whose rather bold breach of Omega's one rule over and over and over again had actually managed to make Lyrali come off as more of an idiot than she was supposed to be, because now she really was an idiot, everything had gone perfectly.

The Pirate Queen of Omega's arrogance had reared it's ugly head, letting her fall prey to a very, very meticulously planned trap. Meld-Interrogation was a favorite of Aria's, as she'd very publicly advertised that she could not be bested as a finely tuned fear tactic and source of propaganda. For all intents and purposes, outside of the best matriarchs and justicars in the Republics, it was true. Aria had no match in a battle of mental will.

Unless of course, that combatant happened to be have an incredibly rare mutation of the latent, and horrifying, genetic disorder that caused Ardat-Yakshi. Rekshi, or Daywind, as they'd become known millennia ago, were far harder to detect than their more dangerous sisters. In fact, most never manifested their more dominating latent traits at all. Rekshi were perfectly capable of performing like any normal asari, though the act of joining would often be far more taxing than it normally would be for both partners. It rarely, if ever, resulted in death, and since the asari who experienced it internalized it as "amazing sex", no one would be the wiser.

Yet, there were some who'd been caught earlier, and trained for missions just like these. For asari, intelligence extraction, and in some rarer cases inception, amounted to literally invading the target's mind. Since Aria was legally untouchable, and would see a matriarch or a justicar coming twenty relays away, this was the only option Vasir had considered viable.

The vorcha, however, were a far more personal touch. Over her centuries of duty, she'd acquired access to certain less-than-legal vorcha 'farms', where their only goal was to breed them as super soldiers on a mass, disposable scale. It was rare when she got to use them at all, but when she did, they always performed to specifications. Bloodthirsty and thorough. Eventually she'd have to torch that facility, in case the Blood Pack got wind of it, but that was neither here nor there.

Vasir clicked open her omni-tool, confirming that all camera feeds in a six block radius were still on a loop. She nodded and opened the secured comm line to her ship. " _Orisini,_ this is Vasir. Operation is complete, be ready to take off in thirty."

" _Roger that, Spectre. Beginning pre-flight procedures. Should we inform the council?"_

Vasir shook her head, looking out over the station through the massive windows. "No, that won't be necessary Fhara. I'll handle that when I arrive."

" _Very well, Spectre. Goddess go with you."_

"And with you." The spectre cut off the comm and smirked to herself. There was never anything quite like the prideful feeling of a methodical, high-risk plan going off flawlessly. It worried her that both the Broker and the Council had given her the same mission, or that rather the Broker encouraged her very, very enthusiastically, to acquire information from Aria's head, the nature of which they both had refused to divulge. Vasir didn't like being kept in the dark, as a spectre she shouldn't have to be, but if it was for the greater good of the galaxy, the greybox on her belt was-

Not there. Gone.

Vasir stared, dumbfounded at the murky cityscape below her as white, hot rage boiled into understanding. Her hands balled into fists, and dark energy flared and surged around her wildly.

"...oh, you crazy, stupid, sloppy little BITCH!"

-(|)-

Shepard screeched through the air, keeping herself straight as an arrow as she plummeted toward the ground, and opened her internal comm line. She grunted, actively dampening her speed with a low-mass field around her body. "Zaeed!" She managed to land on one of the smaller buildings below her. Her boots hit the ground with a sharp deflection of energy, making small cracks in the rooftop around her feet. "I need a pick-up! I have no goddamn clue what's going on, but somebody just out mindfucked Aria and then bombed her penthouse!" Shepard took a deep breath and channeled as much dark energy as she could, hurling herself forward into a long range biotic charge to the next rooftop. "I also may have pissed off a very, very powerful asari that wasn't Aria! Top of the line equipment, very dangerous!"

" _You're guddamn insane, you know that?"_  Zaeed's grizzled voice cut through the chaos around her. " _I'm on my way. I don't know what the fuck kind of mess you just got us into, but I'm here for it."_

"Alright, so I-". Shepard stumbled to the ground, falling onto her stomach, as a massive shock wave swept over her from behind. She turned around to see a searingly bright flare explode out of the penthouse. "...oh my God she realized I took the greybox." Shepard forced herself to her feet and surged forward into another extended biotic charge, now very much motivated by fear. "Goddamnit, get your ass here now, Massani! I'm in my fucking civvies! I've got a tracker on her, not that it really helps at this point!"

" _What-what greybox?! What the hell did you do!?'_

"She took it out of the mindfucker's head, and Aria said she took something from-" Shepard looked over her shoulder to see the asari land four buildings back in a pillar of white, enraged light, shattering three floors of windows below the crater she left in her wake. "IT'S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW JUST GET HERE!"

Shepard felt adrenalin pump harder and faster than it had in nearly a decade, pure terror keeping her already tired and burned body moving. She cursed loudly, realizing that in about thirty seconds that asari was going to be right on top of her. But, by some stroke of divine intervention, a Blue Suns transport just happened to be passing overhead. If she could charge up there, she could probably raid their supply of rockets launchers and maybe stand a chance-

A powerful biotic flare set off a series of explosions, detonating the transport in several hundred places, blowing it out of the sky and into the city below. She cursed loudly, and readied herself into another charge when the asari crashed into the rooftop not ten feet in front of her, sending an earthquake of force barreling into her.

"Shi-"

Shepard managed to ground herself against the blast, but the asari snapped forward ahead of the wave, slamming her underhanded fist into the Shepard's gut. She coughed up blood, saw black spots, and yelped in delayed agony.

"Found you.", growled the asari, malice dripping from her lips.

Shepard struggled to regain her composure as she hacked up more blood, her knees shaking from the sheer force of that hit. The barrier from the impact blast had softened some of the blow, but not much. "...yeah…", she said, struggling to breath, let alone think. "...you did…"

"I'll admit, that was pretty fucking clever. Get me to lower my guard...", whispered the asari, keeping her fist held against Shepard's stomach. "...assert my dominance…"

Shepard grunted painfully and ejected both hidden pistols into her palms in a desperate attempt to gain some sort of standing. She shoved them both into the asari's chest, only to watch the other woman yank them away and crush them both in bright warp fire.

"And then hit me with something that you know no one would be insane enough to defend against, or rather ever possibly could." She flicked her wrists, lazily scattering the scrambled pieces of of metal across the rooftop. "Unlike that." The asari snapped forward, ripping out one of Shepard's knifes from her clothes, and shattering it against her own gauntlets. "...and that." She did it again, so quickly and elegantly that Shepard couldn't adequately defend herself.

Shepard growled, drew a large heat knife from behind her belt, pounded her boot against the floor with a small biotic pulse to get the asari off-balance, and lunged forward to stab at her neck. Much to her dismay, the asari caught her arm mid-swing and slammed her helmet into Shepard's skull, nearly blacking her out. She felt her eyes lose all focus and blood trickle down from the gash on her forehead.

"...and this…" The asari violently twisted her wrist, snapping it in half, pulled her forward, smashed her fist into Shepard's throat, and then her sternum, breaking it, with a brutal one-two finisher.

Shepard silently screamed in mortal agony, fell onto her back, unable to breath, and struggled to remain conscious. She opened her mouth, searched for air, and found none. The asari towered over her, glowing bright as the sun. "I'm disappointed. I really thought that you might have been worth the effort. But I guess you're all out of tricks. "

Shepard coughed violently and caught a glimpse of something small, fast, and blue out of the corner of her eye. "...got one...more…"

The asari rolled her eyes. "Really. Of course you do. What, are you going to shoot molten lead out of your eyes?"

"Nope.", she wheezed, staying awake taking nearly everything she had. "Gonna hit you with a car."

The asari raised her brow. "...wha-" She instantly turned as she heard the screech of Zaeed's skycar and wrapped herself in the strongest barrier she could just before the maniac's car slammed directly into her, sending the asari flying off of the roof and creashing straight through the outer wall of an apartment building across the street.

Zaeed instantly turned the car around, landed just beside Shepard and got out. He looked her over, confirming she wasn't dead, and gestured to the rather extensive damage to the front bumper. "You're paying for that."

Shepard was dazed and tried to nod. Her vision was blurry and filled with black and white, but she felt being lifted off of the ground and then put back down in a more comfortable place. She blinked, seeing that she was now in the passenger seat of the car. Shepard gasped loudly into a cough as Zaeed stabbed a hypodermic needle into her leg. "Mother of...shit!"

"Yeah, that's why I always keep those on me.", said Zaeed, giving her a closer look. "Give you one helluva kick in the balls. Or in your case, quad." He chuckled, igniting the drive core.

Shepard's blue-grey eye's flicked around the skycar's interior as the morphine, adrenalin and combat stims quickly surged through her body. "Thanks." She looked at her wrist and winced. "...let's just go. I'm gonna need to set this, and get into one of those bone regenerators for my chest. Most of it is broken." Shepard looked down at her rather torn clothing and frowned. "...I really liked this shirt…", she lamented under her breath.

Zaeed nodded as he lifted the skycar into the air, flying away from the battlefield. "Alright. After you get yourself patched up, you mind explaining to me what the hell just happened?"

"Yeah, sure." Shepard looked out the window at the asari's final resting place-

Not there. Gone.

"Shit." Shepard felt her heart rate skyrocket and her eyes bug out of her head. "Drive. She's gone!" She motioned forward, panicking. "Drive, drive, drive, drive!"

-(|)-

Tela Vasir was very, very, angry. She'd fallen for the same trick twice, and by the same human's hand, in less than an hour. The last time she was this angry got her nominated as a spectre. It took more than a little luck, and centuries of biotics training, to withstand a skycar crashing into her at full speed, but somehow she'd done it.

She pulled herself out of the remains of some poor fool's grand piano, only to see a rather miffed salarian still sitting at his bench, glaring at her as if he was waiting for her to fix it. "...you have insurance, right?"

The salarian blinked. "Against...what exactly? How would I file a claim that says an asari commando crashed through my wall and tore apart half of my home?!" He gestured wildly around his apartment, displaying the rather catastrophic collateral damage Vasir had caused. Half of the outer wall was missing, most of his plumbing was shot and the front door was crushed under several different kinds of broken tables, bookcases and chairs. "It looks like someone crashed a shuttle in here!"

"Looks like you just answered your own question." Vasir shrugged and biotically hopped over to the gaping hole in the wall. She looked up, and quickly snapped up to the roof of the building.

Her body erupted in blinding blue light, having only suffered some minor bruising thanks to her inertial dampeners, excellent barrier work, and kinetically resistant armor.

The spectre spotted the skycar taking off and launched herself into the air, landing on what she recognized as a salvaged C-SEC patrol car flying a few lanes over from them. Her heavy boots partially caved the hood as she grounded herself. Vasir opened the driver's side door, hurled the turian driver out to certain death and took control of the vehicle.

This was what she hated about Omega the most. No official jurisdiction, so anyone recognizing her could incite a war by calling their cousin, which also meant no support. She could only bring what she could smuggle or carry, and nobody local would be willing to help her. So when some uppity human and her friend decide to fuck her over, she has to personally chase them down or it's somehow even more illegal.

She sped toward them, delighted that her skycar was inherently more maneuverable and faster than theirs, and followed them over and between buildings. Whoever this driver was, he was utterly insane. She snapped around corners far too small, ducked under overpasses far too low and soared through vertical shafts far too narrow for any typical pilot.

Vasir's eyes widened as Omega's main skyway came into view from behind a massive tower. Thousands and thousands of skycars zipped just feet from one another in all directions. "You have got to be kidding me." Navigating it, by heading straight through the middle, was something that not even Vasir was crazy enough to consider. Apparently, who ever this driver was, had and was intending to do just that. His approach vector meant it was either a bluff, or he really thought he could lose her in that steel jungle and not come out a mangled mess.

"I just got hit by a car and shrugged it off like it was nothing." Vasir shook off her worry with a scoff. "I can dodge some traffic."

-(|)-

Shepard loosely gestured at the traffic around the skycar. "Zaeed. You've missed four merging lanes. Take us through the Ikina district. Faster than the Nexus.". She stared straight ahead, a little delirious from the meds, until she realized that he was actually going to try and fly straight through the center of the main skyway. "Zaeed...don't do this right now. Don't do this right now! In case you forgot, I have a lot of broken bones right now and really need to go to a hospital!" Zaeed had wanted to do this for many, many years. It was like his White Whale, and yet somehow it had nothing to do with Vido.

"You said it yourself, Shepard!", laughed Zaeed as he maneuvered their skycar for an approach run. "Shit's hit the fan, so there's no telling if I'm gonna be able to try this tomorrow. " He jabbed his thumb behind him. "And she's gonna catch up to us in a few seconds anyway, so we'll be dead either way."

"Fine!" Shepard gripped the upholstery as they sped toward the nexus, fighting every urge to bail out of the car. "Goddamnit, Ahab, don't screw this up!"

"Not a chance."

With that, the skycar barreled nose first into the most congested part of traffic, a field of metal two kilometers in either direction. It bobbed, weaved, and rolled through trucks and luxury sedan alike. Shepard was pretty sure she could hear several six-hundred car pileups, and then downs, behind them as Zaeed's primal need to outwit an artificial construct raced forward. Needless to say, the lack of a safety harness was something that Shepard really wished she had invested in when she had the chance. Miraculously, just as quickly as they head gone into the breach, they emerged back into the light unscathed.

"Told you it'd work.", said Zaeed, as he tapped the tracker on the skycar's hud. "She's down. Altitude dropping like a cinderblock."

"Goddamnit, fine. You win." Shepard looked at him begrudgingly. "I'll pay you later. After I'm not running on stims." She sighed and rubbed her eyes with her good hand. "Take us down to her. I want to make sure she's dead, and then take her armor if it's salvageable. Looked like it'd fit."

Zaeed nodded and sent the skycar into a lazy dive.

-(|)-

"...s _pectre, please respond. Spectre? Spectre!"_

Vasir awoke with a powerful grasp at breath, only to choke on the smoke filled air surrounding her rather spectacular wreck. She cursed as tried to crawl out of the fallen skycar, but couldn't find a hole large enough. With a little effort, she made one of her own by slamming a warp field into the hull. The metal melted away, giving her enough room to shamble out of the burning debris and into the relatively clearer air of the station.

"...fuck today. Fuck all of today."

" _Thank the Goddess! Spectre, we need to leave. Now. Some kind of violent rally is starting outside the private docks, and one of the ops techs detected some of the GTS batteries on the other side of the station coming online."_

The spectre struggled to her feet, and immediately felt incredibly dizzy and sick. She looked down in shock. Purple blood was seeping from open wounds everywhere on her body. Her chest plate had been cracked in half by the crash, and she felt a rather large gash in her right side coupled with what felt like her stomach being loose. She dropped to her knees, took off her helmet, and, eyes glazing over, vomited onto the street.

"Go. Fly to Imorkan and keep comms open. Pick a layover station and siege it. If anyone asks, tell them not to fuck with the Broker." Vasir coughed violently. "You're still in system. I can get to you."

" _...acknowledged, Spectre. Goddess go with you."_

"And with you." Vasir fumbled for the stims on her belt and quickly injected them straight into her neck. The spectre clenched her teeth to hold in a yelp and very quickly became more alert. She reached behind her back for a rifle that was no longer there, then a shotgun that was broken in half, and then finally her sidearm.

"Thank the Goddess one of you still…" She glared at the tiny tracker on her submachine gun and crushed it between two fingers. "...tracking me even though she ran away. I can't decide if you're either brilliant or just incredibly lucky, human."

There was a click behind her, a pistol safety being disabled. "Can't it be both?" The human smirked. "Zaeed! She's over here! Stop looting the other wrecks!"

"Not worth the guddamn time, anyway! Nothing good on 'em besides a few spare parts, Shepard!" Off in the distance, the older human, apparently Zaeed, looked up and jogged over to them. "Oh, look at that. Still alive. Damned impressive, I'd say."

"I'm very hard to kill, if you hadn't noticed." Vasir snarled, feeling the cold metal of a hand cannon pressed against the back of her skull. "...how long was I out?"

The woman, apparently Shepard, shrugged. "An hour. Maybe more. That helmet must have been sealed tight." She gestured around them. "The tracker I planted on you really didn't help after the crash. There are quite a few wrecks down here already. Many of them rather recent…", she said, stamping her final words with a glare toward Zaeed.

"Are you really going to start judging the ethics of the man who just saved your life twice inside of half an hour? The plan worked! Nothing else should matter!" Zaeed scoffed. "Guddamn ungrateful is what you are."

Shepard rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Okay. Fine. Thank you."

Vasir growled, enraged that her captivity was being ignored. "This is all very entertaining, but how about you just give me back that greybox, and we forget this ever happened."

Shepard hummed tauntingly and strafed around to the front. "What was that? You want this back?" She tapped the greybox on her belt.

"Yes. It's very important that I have that. ", she said through gritted teeth. "I'll bleed out soon anyway, so why do you even care?" The asari roared, glaring at Shepard. "You just got yourself into the most trouble anyone could ever be in, you stupid bitch!"

"You made a play for Aria, who's done a very good job at making sure that Zaeed and I don't get eaten by vorcha or krogan. " Shepard scowled. "Letting you run away with that greybox would be far more trouble than what you have in mind, I assure you."

Zaeed sighted his rifle at her head. "Point is, you kicked the piss out of my friend here, along with our generous benefactor, and I don't take too kindly to that."

"I didn't make a play for Aria! Nobody with the power to make that happen is stupid enough to do it! The political fallout-" Vasir stopped herself short, realizing that she was slightly delirious from the crash and didn't want to reveal too much about the inner workings of the galaxy. "Ok. Fine. Maybe if I'd explained who I was earlier, none of this would have happened." She sneered, hoping this bombshell still carried some sort of weight. "Tela Vasir. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

Zaeed and Shepard slowly looked at one another, but it was Shepard who broke the silence, in the most surprising way possible. "Shit." Shepard froze, the last few hours of her life completely shattering. "Oh. Oh, no." Shepard holstered her pistol and turned white as a ghost. "We...this is...this so bad."

Shepard's cool, blue-grey eyes locked into something old. Vasir couldn't quite make it out, but she was slowly realizing that neither of these two were anywhere near stupid. The human woman cursed softly and quickly applied a hefty dose of medigel to the asari's most obvious wounds. "Zaeed, get her in the car. We're getting her and I patched up at the clinic. Then, we'll move from there, see if we can't figure this out." She stumbled to the skycar, her physicality betraying her commanding tone.

Zaeed snorted. "...guddamn hero types..." The grizzled mercenary slung his rifle, effortlessly swung Vasir over is shoulder, and jogged toward their skycar. "...gonna get us all killed..."

Vasir roared and, weakened as she was, tried to offer up some sort of resistance by slamming both her fists into his back. "Put me down, you dumb ape! What the hell are you doing?!"

Zaeed dropped Vasir into the back seat and settled himself into the front. He fired up the drive core and ignited the thrusters. "...this is going to get much worse before it gets better."

Shepard slipped into her seat and slammed the door shut. "Just focus on getting us to the clinic." The skycar took off, quickly rejoining traffic.

Vasir stared incredulously at the human pair as the seedy brown of Omega blurred beneath them. She winced several times as the burning pain for the medigel taking effect broke through the painkillers. "Who the hell are you people and why are you helping me?" The spectre fidgeted in the back, not quite strong enough to sit up.

Shepard turned around and resisted the urge to salute and stand at attention, despite being seated. "Karen Shepard, and this is my associa-friend, Zaeed Massani."

Zaeed rolled his eyes. "Almost had her thinking we didn't like one another. Good job." The mercenary frowned and surged the skycar forward. "I'm not one to stick my neck out for people I don't even guddamn know, so yeah, why are we helping, Shepard?"

"Why?" Shepard snarled in her seat. "Because I am not going to be responsible for killing a Spectre. That's not going on my conscience." She stared at Zaeed, making her stance perfectly clear. "We help her. End of discussion."

Zaeed grumbled, clearly not happy with that decision as he made a rather hard turn. "I guess it'd be stupidly cruel to not take her with us when we're going to the same guddamn place." He shrugged. "Not like I have to make two stops."

"Yeah, big fucking hassle that would be!" Vasir flashed her teeth and did her best to glare at the back of their heads. "And where might we be going, exactly? Afterlife? Suns? Eclipse? Blood Pack? Hegemony? Cerberus? Daughters of Athame?"

Shepard looked over her shoulder, her expression oddly calm. "Gozu Medical Clinic. Best care on the station."

Vasir spat blood onto the floor of the skycar. "So an organ farm." The spectre scowled. "Land the car and leave me to die. I don't want any of your goddess-damned help."

Zaeed laughed. "Trust me, lady. This one sure as hell isn't an organ farm."

Shepard forced a reassuring smile. "The doctor we're taking you to see is the least hack of a doctor I've ever met. We're pretty sure he still has his medical license. Legally."

Vasir raised a brow, curious. "Name?"

"Mordin Solus."

-(|)-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BSG-Legacy described it best when he said I should consider this as a "Pilot" for a good cable TV series. The goal of those is to tell us the setting, the dynamics, the relationships and the very basic idea of the conflict.
> 
> (Yes, I realize that I accidentally re-purposed much of the Shadow Broker DLC chase, but I think it different enough to stand on it's own.)
> 
> As always: Thanks for reading, and feedback is always appreciated! No matter how scathing or tiny the critique, I'd love to hear it!


	2. Internal Affairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, Finals Week! Glad that's over with. Bioware owns all, etc
> 
> Once again, LogicalPremise saves the day, this time with his extensive understanding of physiology and genetics. A section near the end regarding some risky genetics work makes scientific sense thanks to him! Hooray!
> 
> As always, the following chapter was beta'd by BSG-Legacy.

 

-(|)-

The dark, primal and almost arousing bass of Afterlife washed over Aria, each powerful beat resonated through her bones and forcing her heart to pump harder. Pink and orange neon danced across her skin, now drenched in flop sweat, as pirate queen slumped onto her couch, her body still drained from her mental battle with the rekshi. She folded her hands onto her lap and snapped her eyes at Anto, a wide-eyed batarian with vomit colored skin.

"Anto. No more visitors today. I'm sick of hearing everyone's problems." Aria forced an arrogant and powerful laugh, ensuring that it could be heard just over the blaring music of the club. "Find me some solutions." She frowned. "...and some varren kebabs. I'm starving."

"You got it.", replied Anto, nodding as he left the upper area.

With a few taps of her omni-tool, Aria closed the command center's reinforced shutters, activated it's auditory dampeners and, just for good measure, turned up music up. As soon as they were secure, a series of aerosol displays materialized on the walls around them. "Bring all of our GTS batteries and GARDIAN defenses online. Full readiness." Vidfeeds, comm traffic, environmental controls, station defense systems and general situational awareness screens surrounded the raised platform, giving the pirate queen absolute control Omega from the comfort of her couch. "Inform the crews that they are to fire on all targets, regardless of size or ownership. I don't want anyone leaving my station until we figure out what the hell just happened."

Bray nodded, standing beside her with his arms crossed, and watched her ops techs sift through the mountain of data and input her orders to their forces across the station. "You sure you wouldn't rather do this from the bunker?"

Aria shook her head and flashed her teeth. "No, but your concern is noted. Omega needs to understand that I'm still in control, and I can't do that if I'm hiding in some hole away from everyone's eyes and ears." She glared at the displays, forcing herself to stay lucid. "I want YMIR mechs and heavy turrets guarding all dock entrances as well." Restrained rage boiled in the pit of Aria's stomach, and she wasn't sure how much longer she cared to contain it.

Despite the legends, it took a lot to make Aria truly angry. In the past century, she'd only gotten angry three times. Once, twenty years ago, when a lover walked out on her, and twice in the last four months.

Cerberus had murdered her daughter. It didn't take her long to find the one responsible and skin him alive. Slowly. Over the course of a month.

This time, however, it wasn't just a personal, horrifying and painful ordeal. It was a calculated play designed to make her appear weak in a very public and embarrassing way. Someone wanted a massive shift in the balance of power.

Her apartment was bombed, most of her personal guard were dead, and she'd have been shredded like paper if not for Shepard's intervention. Most of all, she was beaten, badly, by some mutant freak because whoever planned this knew her methodology and tactics to her very core. Lyrali, as stupid as the name was, appeared just dumb enough to lower her guard and not question why her security team was gone.

Soon, the entire station would believe that she had lost control, and was no longer invincible. Above all else, that wasn't something Aria could abide. She was in control, she had always been in control, and nothing, not even the Citadel itself, could change that.

Aria had no idea who was behind this public insult, or even what she'd had in her head that could've possibly been so important, but there were two things she knew with absolute certainty.

She was angry, and someone had just fucked with her.

Aria snarled, scowling at her technicians. "Do we have a visual on Shepard, yet?", she asked curtly. The human had saved her life, but then she'd just vanished. There'd been scattered reports of some sort of insane fight across rooftops, but none of her cameras had caught anything about it.

An overhead camera feed of Shepard, looking torn to hell, wading her way through car wrecks with her partner Zaeed appeared on the main display. Aria looked up, curiously. "...what are you doing, Shepard?" She turned to Bray. "Are those fresh wrecks? I seem to recall we cleaned most of them up last month…"

"We did, and they are. At least seventy skycars went down about an hour after the bombing. Apparently some idiot flew straight through the nexus. And lived.

Aria scowled. "Of course they did…" Her eyes lit up as a very well armored asari crawled out of a burning wreck and vomited on the street, some distance away from the human duo. The armored asari stared at the sky, her lips moving slightly. "Is the asari transmitting, or just talking?"

A salarian tech shook his head. "Negative, nothing we can hear, ma'am."

Aria frowned, but continued to watch the feed. The lack of audio was always frustrating, but it was the safest way to handle problems while still maintaining her public presence. Besides, people were often more worried about others may hear, not what they might see. Eventually, Shepard and Zaeed cornered the asari. The human woman tapped something on her belt, clearly addressing attention to it. "What did she just poke? Zoom in."

The screen focused on Shepard's belt, revealing the unmistakable design of a grey box. Aria's eyes widened. "Well. Isn't that interesting." She'd thought the plan had failed with Lyrali's death, but that greybox changed everything. As for why Shepard had it, she couldn't say, but she looked half dead, so it was more than likely that this asari was trying to take it from the body.

Bray cursed to himself. "...guess we really do have more to deal with than those super-vorcha…"

Aria half turned toward to Bray, brow raised. "...what?"

"It can wait."

Aria shrugged and turned her attention back to the screen. Shepard, instead of shooting her dead, froze. Her face went pale and then screamed at Zaeed. They took off in the skycar, the asari in the backseat, and out of range for the stationary cameras.

"I don't like this." Aria furrowed her brow and clenched her jaw. "Jam all outbound comms, station wide. I don't want a single signal leaving Omega unless I personally approve it." The pirate queen sighed as Anto returned with her food, a plate of finely prepared varren kebabs. "Finally.", she said before tearing into the meat like a starving krogan, shoving kebabs down her throat in a way that was somehow both elegant and brutal.

Anto and Bray looked between one another, clearly impressed. "...how the hell did you learn to eat like that?", chuckled Bray.

"It's a gift." Aria handed the tray back to Anto and turned to Bray, grinning maliciously. "...so, what's this about super-vorcha?"

-(|)-

Several matte, teal warheads rolled into the back from under the front seat of the skycar, quickly followed by a collapsed ML-22 Launcher. They explosives and launcher repeatedly bumped into each other with sharp scrapes of metal thanks to skycar's rather excessive maneuvering. Several trickles of purple blood seeped over the already stained leather upholstery and on to the floor, quickly finding it's way to the warheads themselves. Now, each time they scuffed another's enclosure, the spectre's blood was passed from one to the other.

From the back seat, Vasir knew that those high explosives wouldn't actually go off unless armed properly, but that didn't make the sight any less stressful. The odd and delirious idea that they were exchanging her blood for killing rights was even more disconcerting.

"...which is exactly why we have these ML-22s under the seats.", grumbled Zaeed as he continued to stare at the floating parking lot of traffic that had manifested around them. "...so we can blow our way out of guddamn gridlocks like this…"

Shepard covered her face with her palm. "No, we're not doing that."

"Why the hell not? Just a few warning shots-"

"Are you shitting me, Zaeed?!" Shepard railed at him, her blue-grey eyes blazing with fury. "No! You just killed about fifty people in that fucking stunt through the Nexus! How many more people have to die today because they happened to be driving?!"

"How the hell should I know?! As many as it takes for the half-dead spectre in the backseat not to bleed out on the upholstery!", the grizzled mercenary screamed in response.

Shepard groaned, exasperated. "Oh my God! How is it always about your goddamn car?! You get that hole in our ceiling installed-"

"It's a retractable one-way mirrored skylight! It's fucking brilliant and lets us come and go without getting hit in the ass with rockets!"

"ROCKETS BLOW UP WALLS! WE DON'T HAVE ECM DEFENSES FOR THE EXTERIOR, ZAEED!", roared Shepard, her face turning red in anger.

"We don't fucking need those, I told you that! We can just reinforce the walls with cruiser armor! I know a guy-"

"OH! Of course, how could I forget?" Shepard rolled her eyes and fell back in her seat. "You know a guy who can get it 'on the cheap'! This the same guy who got me that wrist-mounted flamethrower that had a little backblast problem?"

Zaeed grumbled and glared at the traffic around them. "No! He died last month! This guy is the one who got you your fucking...black power suit thing The one with the eezo endoskeleton that you just had to have! So maybe show some guddamn gratitude, alright?!"

Vasir groaned from the back, feeling as though her ears were bleeding. "By the Goddess, will you two bonded idiots just shut the hell up?!" There was going to be a point where, if this continued, she'd just jump out of the skycar and fall to her death. Listening to those two bicker was a fate worse than death, especially when she was already slowly dying right behind them.

Both Shepard and Zaeed turned around and, in unison, screamed: "WE'RE NOT MARRIED!"

Vasir raised her brows and chuckled. "Of course not." Either they were lying, or were just the most naturally argumentative people she'd ever met.

"Both of you can shut up, I'm listening to some music." Zaeed clicked on the radio, only to find the frequency filled with static. "Huh." He switched between every single one of his favorite stations, many of them from old Earth and the turian equivalent to heavy metal, only to find them all facing a similar fate. "The hell is going on?"

In fact, the only working frequency he could find was the one that spewed that mad batarian's prophet's religious propaganda. "Oh, this is just terrific. Stuck in traffic, and all we've got to listen to are these fucking rants!"

" _...the purge is coming! The great fires will cleanse this station and beyond, making a new, pure galaxy! There is no refuge from the coming storm, my brothers and sisters. Only those who survive! Those who survive the Hunt will be forged together by blood and iron!"_

"I hate that guy." Shepard frowned and turned off the radio. "He called me a blight."

"He calls everyone a blight." Zaeed rolled his eyes. "No, that's it. I'm guddman done with this traffic. If we can't use rockets…" He looked over at Shepard, trying one last time to make it seem like a good idea.

"No."

"...then we'll just ram our way out."

"Oh." Shepard widened her eyes. "Let's not do that. I don't want to fall out of the sky."

Ignoring her, Zaeed surged the skycar forward and into the least meaty part of traffic. He repeatedly crashed the front of the car into each and every other motorist in his way until, somehow, they made a hole and allowed him through. The damage to the front bumper got even worse, and Vasir wasn't sure how much more it could take before it broke something important in the engine.

It took a full minute for Zaeed to demand comeuppance.

Zaeed smiled smugly. "You don't know shit about traffic, do you Shepard?"

"Shut up and drive, Massani.", grumbled Shepard as she looked out the window. "Ok, there's the clinic." She pointed it out among the buildings below. "Zaeed, bring us in fast and hot. Vasir can't wait for slow and steady."

"Roger that…", he said, as he pulled the skycar in for a hot landing, screeching toward the clinic's landing pad. He patted the dashboard lovingly, as a father would a son. " Alright, Jayne, keep yourself together. We've been in worse spots than this. The seats may be ruined, but I swear, if you pull this off, I'm getting you some good guddamn leather this time. No more of that cheap elcor shit."

Vasir, whose skin was now several shades paler, struggled to raise her head from her prone position in the back. "...who the the fuck is Jayne. I…" Her eyes glazed over for a moment before the spectre shook it off. "...thought your name was Karen..." The asari's face slumped back into the cushions, keeping one eye still glaring at the two in the front seats.

"It is. He's talking to the car. It's always about the car..." Shepard looked over her shoulder and grimaced at Vasir's weakening state. "...hold on to something if you can, this is gonna get bumpy." She furrowed her brow and reached behind her, quickly strapping Vasir into the car using the cargo harness despite her violent fidgeting. "...this also works."

"Fuck you." Vasir scowled at Shepard, not too keen at being tied up. She clenched her jaw. "Fuck the both of you."

"I know, and I'm sorry." Shepard frowned apologetically and gripped the center divider, not having a safety harness of her own for reasons Zaeed could only explain with grunts and shrugs. She tapped her omni-tool and opened a line to the clinic's secured, high-priority channel.

"Green Eyes", said Shepard. Her and Zaeed had established a 'shit's hit the fan' call/response code with the clinic months earlier, after Zaeed had somehow survived a very large hole in his stomach. A considerable amount of Shepard's shares gained from their freelance work had gone to help fund the clinic, so she thought she was entitled to a few small bits of special treatment now and then.

The voice of an overworked turian woman came through. " _Black Blood. Welcome back, Shepard_.  _Standing by for Medevac arrival. ETA?"_

"Two minutes. Matron in critical condition. Extensive internal wounds to chest, legs, and abdomen."

" _Got it. Dr. Ceres is prepping for surgery now."_

Shepard killed the line and and took a quick breath. "Ok, here we go!"

Zaeed nodded, his focus entirely the task at hand. "Guddamn right." He opened the throttle, reversed the rear jets and went for a hard burn. The undercarriage thrusters heated the clinic's prefabbed metal roof red as he pushed the drive-core to it's limit. The skycar shuddered as the compensators struggled to react to the rapid change in speed, direction and mass.

Vasir slurred as she was bounced around in the harness. "...where...the fuck did you learn how...to drive?"

"You don't survive this long without learning how to drive really guddamn well, lady!"

The front bumper, which was already a mangled mess from it's recent spectre hit-and-run and bulldozing traffic escape, hit the ground first, sending sparks flying across the windshield and airframe as the blue skycar skidded to a stop just in front of the awaiting medical team.

The sudden, jerking stop of the vehicle shook Vasir's already weakened body. Her head throbbed even more as the void quickly began eat away the corners of her vision. She tried to say something, but her mind was already gone. She slumped over in the harness, her form relaxing, as she finally, mercifully, lost consciousness.

-(|)-

"Let's move!" Shepard popped the doors and trunk, the rear door swinging upward as it opened. She hoisted herself out of the skycar to see the medical staff swiftly removing Vasir, who had finally lost consciousness, from the car and placing her on a gurney. Zaeed cursed a slew of creative and explicit racial slurs as he stuffed the warheads back where they belonged. They sprinted off into the emergency lift and the elevator door slammed shut behind them.

The elevator was cramped, bright, and ancient. It slowly crawled it's way down to the clinic's main floor, shuddering slightly every few seconds. Either there was a war outside, or this thing was literally going to fall apart.

Shepard wasn't really a fan of either.

One of the medical techs, a tall, oddly well-built woman with black hair done up in a messy bun gave Shepard a thorough up-and-down. She had deep, almost enthralling, blue eyes and looked far too pretty for her job.

Shepard raised her brow, challenging her with a delirious giggle. "You the type that likes 'damaged women'? Ooh, okay, tell me, is it the tattered clothing, the broken wrist, or the giant gash on my forehead that's doing it for you?"

The woman grinned, staring at Shepard's abdomen. "Actually, it was the muscle tone."

"Wow." Shepard chuckled, feeling very light headed, even managed a smile. "Good eye, but bad timing. I'm pretty high on painkillers."

Zaeed looked at the dark haired woman with a very bemused expression. "Aren't you supposed to be doing something? Like helping that asari?"

The woman cleared her throat and returned to her post, assisting with the removal of the asari's rather expensive armor. Zaeed scoffed and crossed his arms, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. "...bloody unprofessional is what that was…"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "...true, but that wasn't very nice…"

Dr. Inaara Ceres, the asari surgeon who'd patched both Shepard and Zaeed up on numerous occasions, had been inspecting Vasir's weakened body by hand. She was tall, slender, and had pale purple skin with deep black facial markings. "Somehow, I'd have thought that Aria's apartment blowing up would have dropped the both of you." She glared at both humans with a stern expression. "You two ever consider that I might not like cleaning up after you all the time?" Dr. Ceres sighed, exasperated, and began typing in her omni-tool. "Idiots. Just give me her name so I can cut her open, sew her back up, and kick all three of your asses back onto the street."

Shepard rolled her eyes and made a non-threatening cutting motion just under her chin. "No idea what her name is. Just found her on that same street you seem so excited to kick her back onto."

Dr. Ceres stared at Shepard for a long moment. "Never easy with you, is it?" She shook her head dismissively and typed into her omni-tool. "Fine. Good samaritans, medevac, blah blah blah, unidentified asari. Critical condition."

Shepard held her tongue and nodded in appreciation. "Thanks for the help, Dr. Ceres."

Dr. Ceres looked up, paused, and snickered condescendingly. "Help? Help is what you do when someone loses their omni-tool. This is more like divine intervention. Hold on, let me explain exactly what it is I'm 'helping' you with." She snatched the datapad out of the dark haired lab tech's hands and tapped the screen. "Severe internal tissue damage due to armor plating splintering into chest. A big, obvious hole in her stomach, third degree burns across her legs, arms and chest. Multiple stab wounds from an…" The doctor frowned. "...anti-krogan knife. Internal bleeding, organ damage…" The asari glared at Shepard, as Zaeed had already moved on from the conversation and was now trying, and failing, to check his extranet mail.. "For your sake, I hope she's worth it. Time isn't a fucking luxury today, so everyone who dies out here waiting for me to finish up is on you."

The medical team surged out of the elevator as soon it opened into the central hub of the clinic, vanishing into the maddening sea of people that flooded the area. Nurses and doctors in white splashed with red, purple, yellow and blue, raced from patient to patient, and blaring alarms of monitoring systems failing filled the room. No less than a dozen crash carts made their way through traffic so thick it made the Nexus look easy. The bright, white lights only made the sheer saturated suffering of the wounded and dying all the more unsettling.

Shepard and Zaeed were practically regulars of Gozu, and not once had they seen the clinic overworked to this level of insanity. It was as if the chaotic turn their lives had just dragged the entire station along with it. Shepard gaped, her own injuries seeming meaningless in the wake of all of the stabbings, gunshot wounds and severe burns that clouded her vision.

"...holy shit…", muttered Shepard, nearly at a loss for words.

-(|)-

Dr. Inaara Ceres held onto the gurney as she and her team raced down the long, repurposed hallway toward the central operating room. Those two mercenary morons came in every so often to get some insane injury healed, and always had an anecdote or two about how it got there, and why it was the other one's fault. Inaara was starting to get very tired of their repetitive bullshit.

That is, until Shepard and Zaeed had hauled in a mostly dead asari matron with some of the most advanced equipment lodged in her flesh that Inaara had ever seen. Now, she rather missed the pair's ludicrous monotony, because today was a perfect storm of worrying things.

Someone made a play for Aria, so naturally the factions of Omega made plays for everyone else. It was open season, and nobody was safe from the crossfire of the sniveling Suns or the whiny Talons.

The medical team burst through the large steel doors of the operations chamber as an asari nurse scrambled to gather a set of surgical tools that weren't already in use by the many other ER teams. She laid them out on a dolly as the dark haired woman read through a final checklist of their needed instruments. Two salarian assistants sealed the doors behind them and jogged back to the center of the room.

Inaara activated the decontamination protocols and slipped on a surgical mask while the rest of the medical staff did the same. Aerosol-based cleansers entered the room through ceiling and floor vents. The asari doctor nodded toward her team, and they, after counting to three, transferred the spectre to the operating table. They began to prep her for surgery, as Inaara slipped on a fresh pair of blue latex gloves, the coloring she always found humorously redundant for asari, and adjusted the overhead lighting. Under the extreme light, something odd caught her eye.

It looked like a manufacturing label, but burnt into the asari's chest. Inaara furrowed her brow and took a closer look. "...Spectre Armory…?" Inaara snarled and bowed her head. "...by the Goddess, Shepard, I am going to wring your fucking throat for putting this on me."

The asari doctor looked up at her medical team, and waved off their worry. "She's a spectre. Nobody's had greasy fingers before, so nobody better start. It would be very, very bad if she died on this station, alright? Let me put it this way." She stared straight into their eyes, one by one. Two of them, the asari and a dark haired human female, she didn't recognize, but they were in scrubs so Solus had probably called in some temporary help. "If she dies, I will personally kill each and every one of you for premeditated malpractice. Are we clear?"

"Perfectly, ma'am.", said the dark haired woman.

Inaara stared at the two she didn't recognize, her silver eyes going dark. "...you two. I don't see nametags. What clinic are you normally working in, and who's your attending surgeon?"

The dark haired woman cleared her throat. "Alice Calloway. I answered an open call for nursing staff. I've had formal medical training with the Systems Alliance, but I've not assisted in surgery for a few years. If-"

"Shut up, good enough." Inaara turned to the asari. "You?"

The asari nurse blinked. "Serria T'Jeera, serving under Lyrali T'Koma at the Ikina District Clinic."

Inaara gave Serria a stern look, flattening her lips in a thin line.. "There's no Lyrali T'Koma operating in Ikina, or on Omega for that matter. Mostly because it's the name we give to asari we can't identify." She pointed to the spectre. "Like this one, as you can see by the datapad you're holding. So get the hell out of my operating room before I break that 'do no harm' oath I keep forgetting to renew."

"...fuck." The asari called Serria bit her lip and looked between the staff. "Well, they never said I had to be subtle." She snatched up the spectre's discarded sidearm, and instantly fired a slew of superheated polonium rounds that melted through five of the medical team, burning them from the inside out, and slammed a warp field into a turian nurse, nearly vaporizing him entirely.

Alice had, oddly enough, played dead before the asari had even started firing.

Inaara's eyes widened as she brought up her own barrier, despite knowing it wouldn't stop the specialized ammunition that weapon was spewing. Serria had killed all but one of her team almost faster than she could blink. The asari doctor's old mask fell into place, one of boredom and indifference. "You're a terrible assassin, kid."

"Really." Serria laughed and leveled her weapon at the good doctor. "Indulge me. Why?"

"You stopped firing your weapon."

Alice's bright, searing omni-blade burst out of Serria's chest, forcing her to drop the gun as she writhed in agony. "Bloody maniac!" The dark haired woman viciously snapped the asari's neck, stopping all resistance. The asari's body fell to the ground, her gaping chest wound cauterized and black as the void.

Inaara stared blankly at the dead assassin. "You also missed one."

Alice detached her omni-blade, leaving it boiling in the fallen asari. She stared at her kill with a calculating look. "I wasn't fast enough, and your team died for it." The dark haired woman looked at Inaara with a flicker of guilt. "I'm sorry for your loss." She sighed, letting much of her tension go. "But there will be time for mourning later. Right now, we need to focus on making sure the spectre lives."

Inaara frowned, very unamused. "I already said that, Calloway. Then someone got blood on my floor." The doctor waved her off and moved the tool dolley closer to the operating table. "Either you're qualified to assist, or, I can't believe how often I have to say this today, get the hell out of my operating room. I can get angry about whatever the hell is going on later."

"Good attitude, doctor. I'm impressed." The dark haired woman chuckled and methodically re-arranged the surgical tools on the dolley.

"Wonderful. Does that impressed sensibility have a real name, too?" She gestured flippantly to very visible omni-blade sticking out of the asari's gut. "Or does every retired nurse just carry one of those things around?"

"...you continue to impress me, Doctor." The dark haired woman nodded. "Lawson." She wiped red, purple and blue blood off of the monitoring devices. "...though I am actually trained in field surgery. I haven't done so in a few years, but my memory isn't the least bit spotty. It's damned near perfect, in fact."

"Lawson. I said your name was a lie, not your whole life story." Inaara sighed, pushing away her feelings of grief toward the many dead on the ground. "Let's hope you're not bullshitting me. I'm not losing her after all of that. Clear?"

"Perfectly."

"Good." The doctor shot Lawson a look of absolute authority. "Scalpel."

-(|)-

"Mordin, you really didn't need to jump me to the front of the waiting list. I could wait. Compared to the others, I'm fine.", said Shepard, sitting cross legged on an observation bed, her flesh bare. The good salarian doctor was one of the few people Shepard knew that made her nudity feel comfortable, as opposed to a painful reminder of what once was. Mordin's strictly clinical, and comfortingly sympathetic, outlook on her branded sternum was why she trusted him as much as she did.

The small, yet effective, observation room was filled with charts of Shepard's medical data. Graphs, diagrams and collated data of the physical abnormalities caused by the mark on her sternum littered the space. Several datapads were strewn about on the table, detailing her current injuries.

Zaeed, realizing that he had far more important things to do than eavesdrop on a rather private consultation, had gone to keep a watchful eye over the operating room while Vasir was under the knife. They couldn't afford any more surprises today.

"Didn't put you at top. Wouldn't be a good doctor if I did. No, simply put you ahead of patients we can't save with limited resources. Also, the Hunt demands good combatants. Need you back in perfect health. Not to mention pre-established relationship due to unique condition." He looked her over and swiped his omni-tool over her body. "Hm. Broken sternum, heavy bruising, second degree burns, shattered wrist, partially collapsed windpipe and moderate concussion. Combat stims proved to be effective temporary mitigation, interesting." He blinked. "Curious, as not technically possible with baseline medical data on you, Karen."

Shepard winced at her given name, though she wasn't sure why. It felt somehow wrong, yet she couldn't exactly place the feeling. "You really don't need to address me by my given name. Zaeed doesn't even do that."

Mordin laughed. "Ridiculous. Surnames used with titles. Formal greetings. Political standing. Acquaintances!" He shook his head, black eyes blinking. "Directly contradicts pre-established human socio-cultural norms. Have helped you countless times. Healed bone, muscle and neural damage. Done extensive research into unique genetics! History! Positive reaction to unexpected arrival. Smiling universally understood as affection among all council races. Friends, not business associates." The rambling doctor smiled. "No longer military. No rank or title. Never asked, didn't need to, truth is in the data. Personality, physicality, ethics." He nodded sagely, as if that was the definitive answer to Shepard's concept of identity. "Karen suits you best."

"Fine." Shepard sighed and stared at the floor. "If it means that much to you…" She grumbles, her given name making the fire in her belly boil. "...you can call me Karen."

"Good." Mordin handed her a black, angular enclosure. "Hold still, Karen."

Shepard grabbed the enclosure and, just before she could ask what was going on, was injected through her neck and into her throat, with a quick-acting numbing agent. She felt breathless as the needle sent a perfectly calculated mass-effect pulse outward from the center of her throat, popping her windpipe back into place. Mordin discarded the needle, and swiftly injected her neck with a neutralizing agent, allowing her throat to come back from the void.

Shepard blinked and took a deep breath. "Wow." The difference was extreme, and it scared her a little that she hadn't noticed anything was wrong with her breathing. "Thanks Mordin, I didn't-" She yelped painfully as Mordin quickly reset her wrist and locked it in place with the black enclosure, a small bone regenerator. "Holy hell, Mordin! At least give me some warning before you do something like that!"

"No." He said as he picked up a larger enclosure. "Keep telling you to buy these. You never listen. Infuriating. Worrying. Frustrating.", said Mordin, as he fastened the bone regenerator onto Shepard's bare upper body. The semi-expandable enclosure wrapped around her chest and back, the faint yellow light of energy cycling back and forth across her sternum, artificially healing bone fractures by jumpstarting the body's natural regeneration process.

"Plenty of portable solutions! Many affordable! Here." He shoved a small bone regenerator, identical to the one on her wrist, onto a spare set of folded clothes in just her size. Shepard didn't want to know where they came from. "No charge. Sick of seeing you hurt. Ironic. Would not hurt of seeing you sick." The fast-talking salarian smiled, and Shepard had to chuckle at that.

"Yeah, I'll bet you'd have a field day with a patient who had the common cold." She grimaced as she felt her sternum begin to reform. "It was the worst, though. I felt like crap for a month."

Mordin blinked. "Teasing? No, wouldn't dare. Not like you. But also medically impossible. Disease isolated to Earth, no chance of off-world exposure thanks to decontamination procedures-" He shook his head, realizing exactly why she'd have had the common cold at all. "Ah. Moving on."

Batarian slavers had, apparently, learned a thing or two from Colonial Europe's approach to 'lesser cultures' in the New World. It wasn't quite small pox, but the blankets shipped by an 'anonymous benefactor' got everyone pretty sick weeks before they hit the colony. They weren't cold, they had central heating for the winter and central air for the summer, but those blankets were just so soft.

At the time.

Shepard scratched the back of her head, frowning. "Yeah. Let's do that."

-(|)-

Zaeed was not the happiest man alive at the moment. The vending machine, the one he always used after getting himself patched up, had stolen his credit chit. He'd just wanted some tupari, but the damn can was stuck in the tube. The grizzled mercenary scowled at the machine, hoping that just his deadly gaze would convince the large metal box to rethink its stance on life.

The taunting advertisement played again. " _Spectre Kyrik drinks Tupari. Don't you want to be like Spectre Kyrik?_ "

Zaeed growled and punched the machine. "No! For your information, I don't want to be like a guddamn skull-faced, bony-assed, spike-headed, battle chicken who gallivants around the galaxy like everything is his fucking business!", he screamed, ending his sentence by kicking the box with his armored boot. "Give me my fucking soda or we're going to have a problem!"

" _Twelve trillion bottles of tupari are sold in a day, where's yours? Oh that's right, it's inside me._ "

Zaeed eyed the machine closely. "...I got shit to do, but when I come back, I'm gonna gut you like a pig. Nobody taunts Zaeed Massani and lives to tell about it." He jabbed his index finger at the box. "Nobody."

At that, he left the vending machine in a frustrated stomp, forcing his way back into the clinic's dangerously thick crowd. As he struggled to wade and shoulder his way through the sea of dying, dead and sick toward the operation chamber, he kept feeling more and more ridiculous. He wasn't even taller than most of them, so he felt like a lost little kid trying to find his parents in a department store, among other things.

"...feel like a fat, stupid volus in this guddamn jungle…", he grumbled, as he accidentally kicked a volus with his boot. "Oh, shit, sorry 'bout that. Didn't see you there."

The volus looked up at Zaeed, hands on his rotund hips. "Oh, so I'm not... _kshh_...fat, ugly, or…. _kshh_...stupid enough to... _kshh_...notice?!"

Zaeed raised a brow, looking straight down at the uppity Volus. "...I didn't call you ugly. I've no guddamn clue what you look like under that mask. Why the hell would I do that?"

The Volus scoffed, or at least attempted too. "Yeah? Well…. _kshh_...so I'm fat and…. _kshh_...stupid, then?"

Zaeed nodded. "Yeah. You're a big guddman round ball who was stupid enough to assume I called him ugly and bitched at me for it." He rolled his eyes and barreled through the rest of the crowd.

"SHUT... _kshh..._ UP!"

When Zaeed finally made it to the sealed operation room, it was rather easy to spot the five dead bodies and rainbow of blood on the floor through the windows. The sight of the dark haired woman from before and the asari doctor performing surgery was good, but he had no idea if they were helping her or just harvesting her organs.

The dead bodies threw assumptions out the window, so he did the only thing he could do. He looked down the other end of the dead end hallway and saw that the clinic had only gotten more chaotic and crowded. Since, clearly, gunshots weren't loud enough to pierce the sheer volume of the patient swarm, Zaeed figured a plasma torch would be even easier to hide.

"I just cannot catch a guddamn break today, now can I?", he grumbled as he activated his omni-tool's plasma torch. Zaeed looked at the window, and then the control panel, and then back at the window. "Fuck it." He shrugged and slammed the superheated stream into the panel, melting the electronics with a strong static discharge.

The sealed doors swung open, somehow, and Zaeed sprinted through them as he drew his rifle from his back. He sighted the dark haired woman as it expanded onto his arms. "You've got about two-"

The dark haired woman whirled around, bringing her pistol to bare on Zaeed. "-seconds before I melt that rifle out of your hands?" She flared her biotics, wafts of dark energy flowing over her body. "Drop the gun. You brought her in, that means we're friendlies." She made a quick gesture between them both. "Same side. Same goal."

Dr. Ceres grunted, her focus still entirely on the spectre's open chest cavity. "That goal being the survival of this spectre, a fact that you and Shepard conveniently neglected to inform me of. Oh, and if not for Lawson, everyone in this room would be dead." She wiped the sweat off of her brow. "That asari with the big, black hole in her stomach had the worst bedside manner I've ever seen, so drop your gun before I reenact her performance solely on you."

"Alright. Fine. I gotcha." Zaeed frowned and gripped his rifle tighter. "Drop yours first. I haven't done that in twenty guddamn years, and I'm not about to start now."

"Very well." Lawson sighed and did as she was told. "Seal the doors, if you can. We'd appreciate some overwatch from other idiots that like to break down doors."

"...yeah, I'll bet…" Zaeed rolled his eyes, slung his rifle and went to do just that.

-(|)-

"...peak physical health, in all categories. Even above theoretical maximums in humans, but more on that later. Now, on to more pressing matters." Mordin, having just finished her routine check-up, grabbed a chart off of the haptic display and expanded it in front of Shepard. "Injuries today were surprising. Should have died hours ago from impact trauma of asari headbutt."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm pretty hard to kill, I get it-"

Mordin shook his head, suddenly becoming far more serious. "No, not statistics. Probability of death. Medically impossible for baseline human skeletal structure to withstand that amount of force!" He tapped a few commands into the display, and it highlighted her neck and brain stem. "Even with highest known threshold for humans, death was absolute certainty. Neck should have shattered. Upper vertebrae snapped in half. Brain stem severed!"

Shepard stared at the image incredulously and thought back to her fight with Vasir. In full armor, and that powerful a biotic, she should've been able to kill her instantly. Probably just by squeezing her neck. "...I...don't understand. How is this possible, then?"

Mordin frowned and brought up another chart that displayed her dna, post-birth alterations labeled in red, along with a detailed diagram of the mark on her sternum and a scan of the many of latent cancerous growth all over her skeletal and muscular structure. "Batarian slaver mark is...far more effective than modern genemods. Can be. Not always. Rarely. Statistically unlikely to only benefit from sloppy nanite-based genetic rewrite. Still, increase in muscle strand density, bone strength, and overall resilience." He took a deep breath and flipped to the next screen, displaying two blood samples. "Left was taken three weeks ago. Right was taken today. 20% increase in survivability. Five years normal minimum for enhancement of this level! Far beyond Alliance genemod regulations, change itself should have killed you!"

Shepard's eyes widened. "...it's...making me stronger…?" She looked down at her sternum, the black mark a sickening reminder of where she came from. A reminder that, no matter how hard she fought or how much she accomplished, would never wash away. "That doesn't seem possible. The batarians designed those fucking things to latch onto as much genetic code as possible and force skin pigmentation to alter itself in seconds, regardless of the damage it caused to the rest of the body."

"No." Mordin shook his head. "Not making you stronger. Reactive. Parasitic. Secondary, latent purpose! Would never have detected it if not for current injuries." He spoke gravely. "Stupid for missing it. Mark spreads. Visually, physically and neurologically." The salarian doctor sighed and switched to the last display, expanding it on the wall. It was a large, real-time image of her brain activity. "Normal brain activity for humans."

"Yeah, alright. How does it spread, though?"

"Watch. After we apply external stimuli..." He pinched her arm, and she slapped his hand away. Her brain lit up, isolating several parts that she instantly recognized as behavioral centers along with her endocrine system and pituitary gland. "Pain alters behavior differently than standard reaction, along with enhancements. Subtle chemical disparity. Significantly increased testosterone production, lowered inhibitions, several unintentional effects...though none worth noting."

Shepard furrowed her brow and looked down at her sternum. "...it's supposed to make me more resilient to beatings and assist in rapid mental conditioning. The more they'd hit me, the harder I could take it, and the more powerful the lesson." She scowled at the ground and bit into the back of her lower lip. "Lowering inhibitions would give them more opportunities for abuse, and…"

"Don't dwell. Move forward." Mordin shook his head and closed the haptic windows. "Theory most likely correct. Bone growth caused by disabling key process in human skeletal reconstruction. Bone fractures heal, overcompensated. Mark prohibits bone from returning to original strength. Repeat. Muscular hypertrophy a result of increased testosterone production during pain response. Further injury will cause further enhancement. Awareness leads to new, possible exploitation of mark." He frowned. "Though, wouldn't advise. Left unchecked, muscles contract faster than nervous system coordinates. Fine control of body becomes problematic, very dangerous for biotics! Strain of constant physical enhancements will be too much for metabolism. Also, Circulatory and respiratory systems. Body can't produce enough energy, muscle and bone self-atrophy until stabilized or...death."

"Fucking terrific!" Shepard buried her head in her good hand. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't! So, what, do I just quit being a merc and try not to fall down the stairs for the rest of my life?"

The salarian doctor took a deep breath and regarded Shepard for a moment. "No. Never quit. Never give up. Life finds a way. Still, large problem that needs a temporary solution. Even with , physical augmentations cannot be undone without significant risk. Most likely applies to mark itself." Mordin actually paused for a moment before writing frantically into his omni-tool. "...could create rudimentary neural implant, alter pain response signals back to human baseline until better tech acquirable..." He shook his head. "...strong chance of interfering with L3n implant. Electrocution of brain not desired effect."

Shepard stared at the good doctor, internally repeating everything he'd said in the last ten minutes. "Well, it's better than what we had a minute ago. Any clue when you'll know if it won't...cook my head from the inside out?"

Mordin nodded many times as he brought up schematics of a standard L3n biotic implant. "Few days, possibly longer. Or shorter. Can't provide concrete answer. Unfamiliar with human biotic implants, will need to learn implantation procedure and pitfalls of L2 program. Can't repeat same mistake of others."

"Alright, until then, is there anything I can do to...I don't know, not kill myself?", she frowned, feeling defeated.

Mordin continued to patter into his omni-tool. "Eat. Double, possibly triple, normal daily caloric intake. Muscular growth needs more energy. Also, don't get shot! Or bruised! Duration of pain response most likely tied to physical growth. Injuries survived today could be final threshold! Hide until implant is ready. Cannot stress enough that death is absolute, not merely possibility!" He stared at her bone regenerators and narrowed his eyes. "...just now occurs to me that bone regeneration may accelerate process, coupled with consistent low level pain reactions..." Mordin shook his head a few times, looking rather frustrated.

Shepard frowned and did her best not to feel pain. It didn't work. "Maybe you should just prescribe me some painkillers for the time being. Something that dulls both the nerves and that part of the brain."

Reaching into his pack, without even looking up from his omni-tool, the salarian doctor begrudgingly handed her a pill bottle of...a drug she couldn't exactly read. "This does that. Very potent. Split in two, no, four and take one every ten hours until implant is ready. Stay well nourished or run risk of coma! Combination with combat stimulants should...produce desired effects." He frowned. "Don't like this. Dangerous. Very risky. Sadly, necessary."

"Okay, I'll do my best." Shepard bit her lip. "..so you can do that, figure this out, but you still can't get rid of this thing.", she lamented. It wasn't a question, and it hadn't been for a very long time.

Mordin blinked, closed his omni-tool and sighed. "...No. Explained this already. Reversal of branding process easy, but lack gene resequencer in clinic. Expensive, unnecessary for normal patients. Still, would take years to finish. Physical augmentations far more difficult. Skin pigmentation result of targeted retrovirus in basal skin cells that repropagate genetic modifications. Tied directly into actual reversal of bone tissue and muscular growth. Need to avoid total destruction of endocrine system, hormone balance! Requires decade of research and testing, if not more. Would be dead by then. " He shook his head. "Will not attempt procedure without near absolute certainty of success."

"I...appreciate that, I suppose." Shepard sighed heavily and hugged herself gingerly. "Thank you for...catching that, Mordin. Before it became too late." The woman smiled sadly. "What do I owe you?"

Mordin shook his head. "Nothing. Would have taken opportunity to study condition as payment, or assistance in clinic funding, or friendship. Numerous times that you and Zaeed sent message to street gangs that clinic was 'off limits' come to mind."

Shepard laughed. "You really just don't give a shit about sustainable business models, do you?"

"Never have. Won't start."

-(|)-

Shepard glared at the vending machine. After four hours of painful bone regeneration, which probably made the mark's effect even worse, and the realization that, since her clothes were destroyed, her custom weapon mounts were junked, she wasn't in the best of moods. She was unarmed, in clothes she didn't like, probably going to strengthen herself to death, and that damn vending machine just stole her credit chit. All Shepard wanted was several dozen damned chocolate energy bars. It wasn't that complicated.

The partially caved in tupari machine next to it blared another advertisement. " _Tupari! Brings your ancestors back from the grave._ "

Shepard flipped off the tupari machine and refocused on the box that had wronged her. "This is bull." She kicked the machine, and much to her surprise, it actually dislodged a dozen energy bar. Shepard smiled as she ripped open the packaging. The woman took a massive bite, nearly swallowing the energy bar whole, when her omni-tool, along with every single other person's in the clinic, started blaring wildly. In fact, every single vid screen around her clicked over to an image of the Omega logo.

Shepard frowned and opened her omni-tool, only for Aria's face and voice to boom out of every screen, speaker and omni-tool. Her eyes widened in fear, and she gulped, swallowing her energy bar. "...shit..." She quickly shoved four more into her mouth, chewing with total disregard for her appearance, and proceeded to buy the rest of the machine's stock. Thankfully, Mordin had provided her with a bag for just this purpose along with plenty of stims.

" _People of Omega! Among you is a very, very dangerous asari who is personally responsible for the deaths of several dozen of my men, along with the untold civilian casualties caused by the Nexus Massacre earlier today…."_

-(|)-

Lawson and Zaeed were listening closely to the terrifying message Aria was transmitting, while Dr. Ceres continued to work diligently on the spectre despite the maddening sound of seven blaring omni-tools in the room that had yet to answer the call.

" _...earlier today. As tracking her down has proved rather difficult, I am issuing a bounty of five hundred thousand credits to anyone who can bring me her head, and one million for her alive."_

An image of Tela Vasir, just as she had exited the wreckage of her car, was displayed on the screen.

" _This is the asari in question. Now, since some of you are a bit squeamish when it comes to ardat-hunts, I thought I'd make the decision a bit easier for you…"_

"...you know, if I wasn't so sure we were fucked, I'd complain that she gave the spectre credit for causing all of those skycar accidents..."

Lawson stared at Zaeed. "...you can't be serious."

"Have you ever flown straight through two kilometers of steel and come out the other side?! Didn't guddamn think so!"

-(|)-

" _...bit easier for you. The Hunt is now reinstated. All claims to property and social standing are hereby revoked and meaningless."_

Vido Santiago, self appointed leader of the Blue Suns, looked over a very enraging cargo manifest. He violently scratched his grey stubble, as if he was trying to tear off his own skin in anger. "Tarak." Vido looked up and scowled at the large gutted batarian. "You spent one-hundred thousand credits on fucking Grizzly tanks?!"

The massive warehouse around him was filled to the brim with over-sized shipping crates, all stamped with the Systems Alliance insignia. Several squads of Suns armed with high-powered sniper rifles acted as sentries on the catwalks above and on the roof of the building itself. A shipment this big, even if it was stupid, wasn't going to be disrupted as far as Vido was concerned.

"I know, it sounds crazy, but boss, just look at these things" Tarak motioned to his men, instructing them to open one of the crates. The huge door slid open, revealing the hulking form of an M-29 Grizzly. "They're tanks! Nobody else on Omega has tanks!"

" _You are no one, own nothing, and are no longer loyal to any ideal, religion, or creed! As such, every single thing on this station is up for grabs."_

"That's because no one else was stupid enough to buy them!" He whipped the manifest at the batarian's head, smacking him across the face "What the hell could we possibly use these for!?", roared Vido, his gravely voice echoing through the warehouse. "WE'RE ON A SPACE STATION BUILT OUT OF AN ASTEROID!"

Several mercenaries moved to watch the warehouse's massive vidscreen snarl and tease them, the intimidating visage of Aria a sheer force of nature that could not be ignored. The voice boomed throughout the warehouse, masking the sounds of Vido's enraged screaming.

" _Take what is yours! What you deserve! Kill those who have wronged you! Celebrate your freedom from the Citadel..."_

"I see your point." Tarak grumbled at picked the manifest up off of the floor. He turned toward the large vidscreen and narrowed all four of his eyes. "...sir, maybe we should-"

"Shut that thing off!", snapped Vido. Streams of rifle fire shattered the vidscreen, overloading it with a bright flash. "Now, Tarak…" He grabbed the batarian by his armor's collar, bringing them nose to nasal-holes. "...find me a use for these fucking tanks, or I'm going to scoop your eyes out with a ladle!"

-(|)-

Preitor Gavorn, acclaimed vorcha exterminator, stared down into the writhing vorcha pit, the mass of grotesque flesh mating with revolting speed and brutality. He gagged and looked away. "...so, as it turns out, those super-vorcha you were looking for are down in the pits. Fucking the regular vorcha."

" _...from the Citadel! Since I cannot risk this asari leaving the station, any ships attempting to leave the docks, if you are not already cut down by my army of heavy mechs, turrets, and soldiers, will either be destroyed prior to takeoff..._ "

Bray poked his head over the railing and very quickly reeled back with a look of disgust. "Yeah, I can see that. Since you already managed to….well let's just say you caught them, Aria wants to know if we can use them as weapons."

Gavorn widened his eyes and jabbed his larger talon behind him. "Those things? Bray, they shredded through ten feet of solid bulkhead just to get in there. With their claws. If we don't incinerate them right now, they're going to get loose and, spirits, I have no idea how we could possibly kill a horde of something like this."

Bray crossed his arms and sighed. "...okay, clearly using them as attack varren would be a very bad idea..." He gestured toward the pit flippantly. "Alright, burn 'em. As long as I'm not the one to tell her why she doesn't have an army of those things, that is."

" _...or blown out of the sky by ground to space missiles. The station is sealed. There is no escape..."_

Gavorn shrugged and moved over to the incinerator controls. "Fine by me. The sooner these things are dead, the less we have to worry about." He tapped a few commands into the large console, sealed the large circular door over the pit, set the temperature to it's highest setting, and ignited the firestorm. "It shouldn't take long for-"

Thousands of eardrum shattering shrieks sliced through the pit's massive blast door. Alarms rang out from the incinerator control, red lights blaring as it was forcibly taken offline due to extensive internal damage. "Spirits, I think they just tore out the heating coils." Gavorn fumbled on the console, trying to restart it, when he heard a loud thump coming from below the blast door. "...Bray, do we still have cameras in the pit?", asked the turian.

"We should..." Bray opened a live feed onto his omni-tool. Innumerable vorcha, though one could barely tell they were vorcha and not some demon out of a horror vid, were completely engulfed in flames, yet still somehow mating furiously with the very dead carcasses of their fallen brothers. "...yeah, fire didn't do anything."

Gavorn looked at the screen, his vision filling with a burning horde of deep red, eight foot tall, insanely muscular vorcha with claws thicker than his rifle. "Shit."

-(|)-

" _...station is sealed. There is no escape. No place is safe."_

Shepard barrelled into the operating room, in the middle of wiping crumbs off of her face, and stopped short once she saw the heap of bodies and pool of blood on the floor, along with the dark haired woman from the elevator bent over the spectre's body. She flicked her wrist, expecting a cut-down pistol to eject into her palm, only for the small mechanism to click repeatedly as it tried to reveal a weapon that wasn't there. "...right, crap."

Before she could dive out of the way or use her biotics, Zaeed grabbed her shoulder. "Nah, she's friendly. Sort of." He shrugged. "Enough that we don't have to shoot her, at least."

Lawson rolled her eyes. "I'm honored, really." She nodded at Shepard. "Miranda Lawson. I'd shake your hand but I'm currently indisposed." Lawson turned her focus back to the spectre and huffed. "Spectres are a bit more important than introductions at the moment."

" _No one enters! No one leaves!"_

"Karen Shepard." Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "And how exactly did word get out that about that? Also who killed all these people?!"

"Asari with the black hole in her chest killed my team, and then Lawson killed her." Dr. Ceres cut her off, clearly tired physically and of their constant talking. "Oh, and that Spectre Armory manufacturing label burned into her skin was very hard to miss. Information like that should really be given to medical personnel." She grunted, her jaw tightening. "Because apparently, I was the only one who didn't know who she was." Dr. Ceres scowled intensely as she began stitching the spectre back together.

"Operational security, Doctor. Didn't want to let anyone else in if I didn't have to." Shepard furrowed her brow and walked over to the aforementioned asari, her shoes tracking partially dried blood across the floor. She salvaged the spectre's sidearm where it had fallen and clasped it to her belt. "Alright, seeing as how Aria has just-"

" _Until I have the asari in my possession, dead or alive, Omega will remain a state of total anarchy!"_

"...well, yes, done that…" Shepard rose to her feet and stared at the ceiling as if to ask "why me?", before shielding her eyes from the overly bright lights.

"Smooth.", snickered Zaeed.

"Shove it.", she snapped back. "Look, the way I see it, Aria would've called Zaeed and I out directly if she thought we crossed her, which we technically didn't. Most likely, she thinks we're dead. As for you two..." She looked over at Lawson and the good doctor. "Dr. Ceres has never bullshitted us, and I can't imagine she'd want all of those hours she just spent in surgery to mean nothing. Her, we can trust." She tossed the greybox on her belt to Zaeed, who caught it and pocketed it into one of his armored packs. "Lawson, though, you're a bit of a wild card."

"Really." Dr. Ceres shot Shepard a disdainful look. "So she flirts with you, saves the spectre's life, not to mention my own, and her character is still suspect."

" _Let the hunt begin!"._ With that, the transmission finally ended, and the four of them shared a collective sigh of relief.

"Fair point." Shepard crossed her arms and stared at Lawson, taking a few steps closer. "Though one has to wonder why a biotic with such excellent control over her barrier fields is doing surgical work on Omega." She tilted her head, waiting for an answer.

Sensing biotics in others was an ability that all biotics shared, and not a day went by that Shepard wasn't thankful for that. Knowing the difference between a krogan and a battlemaster before the fight even started had proven very useful over the years.

Lawson chuckled. "...I'll make you a deal. We get her out of here alive and, despite that asari's ramblings, somewhere safe, and you'll get your answers. Though I'd like a few of my own, as well." She removed her latex gloves and tossed them in the wastebin. "Especially since I heard you were dead, Shepard."

"What?" Shepard raised a brow as the dark haired woman removed her surgical mask. She had no idea what Lawson was talking about. "Clearly, rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated." She blinked, refocusing. "We can deal with who heard what from who, and who's heard of who, later. Right now, we need transport, and ours is probably dead metal right now."

"Don't remind me." .Zaeed scowled. "Here's an idea, mix things up a bit." He shrugged and drew his rifle, letting it hang lazily from his arm. "Why not just try shooting our way out?"

Lawson shot a paralyzing look at the grizzled mercenary. "Shooting your way out. Through an overcrowded medical clinic." She ripped off her scrubs, revealing very drab and unremarkable civilian wear. "I've a better idea, involving my skycar that's parked a few blocks away and no civilian casualties."

Shepard nodded. "Seconded." She turned to Dr. Ceres, who was now removing her own gloves and mask. "Is she gonna make it?"

Dr. Ceres gave Shepard a hard look. "How should I know? I'm not a damn psychic."

"Fine. When would it be safe to move her?"

"Few days, at least. But, as that's clearly not an option, now should be fine."

"Alright." Shepard nodded. her mind racing through the situation for a method of escape that wasn't certain death. "Everyone on the station knows her face, so…" She furrowed her brow, reached onto the surgical dolley, and tossed Lawson a roll of gauze and medical tape. "If anyone asks, she has horrific burns all over her head and can't speak. Then, we slip her into a hospital gown and roll her out in a wheelchair. "

Shepard turned to the grizzled mercenary. "Zaeed, you get back up to the roof and provide overwatch with the rockets and sniper fire." She tapped a few commands into her omni-tool and sent her comm frequency to both Dr. Ceres and Lawson. "Keep in radio contact."

"Gladly." Zaeed slung his rifle and sprinted out of the operating room, his heavy boots slamming against the smooth metal floor.

Lawson began wrapping the spectre's head in gauze and looked up at Dr. Ceres. "It might be a good idea to bring along a medical bag, too. Just in case we need to open her up again."

Dr. Ceres nodded begrudgingly. "...was about to suggest it." She grabbed volus-sized body bag off a nearby stack and began to methodically filly it with surgical instruments, medications and other medical supplies.

Shepard snatched up a hospital gown and clasped it around the spectre's bare form. "Once he gets up there, Lawson and I are going to escort you and the spectre to the skycar."

Zaeed chuckled violently over the radio. " _Halfway up the stairs. Elevator is dead."_

Lawson finished concealing the spectre's head and looked at the damaged and shredded pieces of her armor on the neighboring table. "What about her armor? It's bound to have more links to the spectres, and anyone with half a brain will know it's not ordinary equipment."

"Damnit. I forgot about that." Shepard frowned and grabbed her own volus-sized body bag, loading the bits and pieces of armor into it, along with her rather large cache of energy bars and stimulants. "Okay, I'll carry the armor, and all this food. And stims. Don't ask. Lawson-"

Miranda cleared her throat. "Miranda is fine, thank you."

Shepard looked the woman over and slowly nodded. "Alright, Miranda. You carry the medical supplies, but all three of us need to be ready to bubble up in case somebody gets uppity in the street." She slung the bag over her shoulder and crooked her lips to the side. "For all we know, it could already be total chaos out there."

" _...Let me tell you something, Shepard…."_

-(|)-

Zaeed stared at the madness around him, hoisting the rocket launcher onto his shoulder. "I've survived some guddamn crazy shit in my life…"

The muddy red sky of Omega was alight with blinding drive-core detonations, burning transports and a constant stream of GTS missile fire. A swarm of gunships, fighters, and jury-rigged skycars were caught in a hundred separate dogfights. Rockets slammed into thrusters, rotary cannons tore through thin, luxury sports car armor like butter and a dozen fighters were impaled by stray bulks of shrapnel. Molten metal rained from above, slicing into the city below.

"I've set entire jungles on fire…"

Several squads of Eclipse mercenaries burst out onto the roof of a building several blocks away, running for their lives as enormous red vorcha erupted out of the floor and massacred them with startling ease and bloodlust. Flamethrower units flanked them, but the napalm did nothing to slow them down. It only made them shriek, the agonizing sound so loud that it shattered several blocks worth of windows, including those in Zaeed's skycar. The red demons slaughtered the rest of the mercs, their brightly burning bodies making them all the more menacing.

"...crashed a pirate fleet into a moon…"

A batarian slave barge screeched through the air as it made a hard turn. It launched a hyper-magnetized mass-effect net at a group of passing shuttles, crushing them very close together. The ship retracted the net into the cargo bay just as a fleet of drones carrying heavy mechs passed above it. Two YMIR mechs were hot dropped onto the top of the hull and quickly began ripping apart the agile craft's minimal armor and vital systems. The ship hurtled into a large apartment complex a kilometer away, it's unshielded drive-core ripping the building off it's foundation and crushing several smaller ones around it.

"...and even got shot in the head..."

Grizzly main battle tanks drove straight through walls and onto the street. The deafening echo of their main cannons rang out in sequence as they fired upon the advancing armies of Blood Pack krogan. A battlemaster roared, transforming into an improvised cannonball as he dove into a biotic charge, toppling the front most tank on impact. His brothers followed suit, each krogan biotic devastating tank after tank as their bloodraged laughter bellowed through the district.

"...but I have never seen anything quite like this."

-(|)-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, oh man. I'm loving the Red Vorcha.
> 
> Fun Fact: Dr. Inaara Ceres is voiced by Catherine Kidd, channeling Netanya Keitner
> 
> If you've got thoughts, I'd love to hear 'em. Slap 'em in the comment box or PM me.


	3. Misdirected Misconceptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the continued support, you guys/gals/hanar! Sorry this one took so long, but I had a serious case of writer's block that was only exacerbated by my vacation. Classes, ironically, start up again tomorrow, so I should be more productive.
> 
> The following work was beta'd by BSG-Legacy and my new second beta, the fantastic MeganD! Now they split the credit, so each of them gets 25%. Also the blame.
> 
> If you're unfamiliar with the M-080 IFV, I'd suggest checking the Mass Effect wikia for an image and some lore. It lacks a proper name, so I'm calling it the Barracuda. The Alliance goes from Bear to ? to Shark to another Shark, so why not?
> 
> For those that may be confused, I went back and retconned the Grizzly tanks from Chapter 2, because they're stupid, to the M-080 Barracuda.
> 
> As always, Bioware owns lots of things, etc.

 

 

Rolan Quarn was beginning to realize that 'joining' the Blue Suns may not have been the wisest choice. Their soldiers were capable, but the turian con artist had learned first hand that the leadership was anything but. Most orders were relayed by Santiago himself in the form of screaming through their radios. It was inefficient and tactless, two things that Rolan simply couldn't stand.

As his team's M-080 Barracuda IFV rolled along the cracked, prefabbed streets of Gozu, the passenger cabin rattled and shook violently. His newly acquired Blue Suns armor scuffed and scraped against the two bulky batarians sitting next to him. They didn't seem too bothered by it.

"Alright, men.", grunted the team's human male commander. He stood up and awkwardly shoved his way to the front of the cramped passenger compartment, his Blue Suns armor clunking and scraping against the other mercs. He grabbed a handhold on the ceiling and grinned at his team. "Santiago wants the rest of the 1st Armored to secure Gozu, so that's what we're gonna do. That means blowing the crap out of anyone, and anything that may more may not be krogan, red vorcha, or whatever other kinds of hell we find out here. Questions?"

Rolan balked internally. Calling it the '1st Armored' was so apt he nearly laughed. The Blue Suns had never had armored ground vehicles before, and so far they hadn't exactly performed like a fleet of IFVs should. "Sir, it was my understanding that the Suns had a strict, conventional command structure. Dare I ask why the CEO, Founder, CFO, COO, and Chairman of our company is micromanaging us like an over-stimmed volus?"

The rest of the squad, including the commander, laughed at that. "No clue, Sandoras.", said the Commander, addressing Rolan by one of the long, long list of go-to personas he kept on hand. "If I had to guess, I'd say stress. Someone should really lace his coffee with Eximo, I swear..."

Eximo, besides being a non-addictive narcotic used to treat stress in humans, was one of Rolan's favorite tools for grifting the galaxy's newest race. Using just the right dosage, a typical human becomes far more open to suggestion. Walking away with a few hundred thousand credits legally wired to a series of banks across Citadel space was a personal favorite of his.

For now, though, Rolan chose to wait. If he could stick close to the Suns long enough to find another, more suitable, method of survival, then there was nothing to worry about.

If he could break out of C-SEC custody and the Citadel itself undetected, escaping Omega was going to be child's play.

-(|)-

Shepard bit her lower lip, slightly distraught at the level she'd had to stoop to just in order to survive. The clinic's morgue was filled to the brim with the pungent stench of death, embalming fluid, and corpses both uncovered and not. The tightly packed room was uncomfortably cold, and the woman was positive that the shivers that traveled down her spine weren't because of the temperature.

As long as her military career had been, she'd never once gotten used to the sight of dead civilians. Looting them for weapons and equipment, however, was even more unsettling.

"Found another few thermal clips, and...a Predator", said Miranda, crouching over her half of the morgue. She sanitized the blue blood stained equipment and carefully loaded them into their makeshift gun bag. "So far, that's ten pistols and more than enough thermal clips. We're going to have to sacrifice quality over quantity, I think. I doubt we'll find anything more than basic Elkoss gear."

Dr. Ceres stood by the door, keeping her eyes affixed through the windows. "They're for self defense, not a war.", she said quietly. The good doctor hadn't taken a single glance at their pillaging, and as such had elected to simply serve as the lookout in case one of her colleagues came to deliver more lost souls. Her hands firmly gripped Vasir's wheelchair, whose head was now encased in gauze and medical tape. "Hurry it up, you two. You're already pushing the boundaries of my ethics as it is."

As Shepard patted down the last of her several dozen cadavers for salvage, she couldn't help but feel dirty. "...you and me both.", she lamented. Taking fallen weapons from mercenaries was one thing, but doing the same from civilians, no matter how relatively innocent they might be, just felt like stealing. Mercs knew the risks, and it was either her or them. The victims here weren't even involved.

Zaeed's grizzled voice cracked in over their comm. " _We've got armor headed our way. Barracuda IFV! Looks like it's alone! Five minutes out!"_

"Shit.", grunted Shepard, standing up from the bodies as she stuffed a handful of thermal clips into her pockets. "Miranda, we're done here. You're carrying the guns." The woman swiftly zipped up the makeshift gun bag and brought the medical supply bag over to Dr. Ceres, who promptly secured it to the back of the wheelchair.

Miranda nodded and pulled the gun bag over her shoulder. "Alright, but if that IFV's about, we can't make it to my skycar on foot.", she said, confirming her machine pistols were secured. "Since yours is dead metal…"

" _Wouldn't suggest moving by air, anyway. The sky is one big clusterfuck_ ,  _and it doesn't look like that's going to die down anytime soon. Rooftops and windows are clear, so's the area around us."_

"What about the battlemasters and the red vorcha?", asked Shepard.

" _Guddamn idiots must've killed each other off. It's just bodies out there."_

"Then escaping just moved up from impossible to suicidal." Shepard tightened the strap of the food, stims and shattered armor bag on her back. "Ok, so Miranda's skycar is a no-go, and there's no way we can make the journey on foot without running into more mercs or, God forbid, the red vorcha. Zaeed, can you slow down the IFV?"

" _If by slow it down, you mean get myself killed by it's big guddamn turret after it tracks where those rockets keep coming from, then yeah I can slow it to a fat, stupid, ugly, stop.",_ he said, his words drenched in sarcasm.

The woman scratched her forehead. "Uh, ok. I take it you're not in the mood for a little impromptu martyrdom?", she said, frowning.

" _Not really, no_."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "'Course you're not.", she said, pinching her brow. "Fuck it."

" _Something stupid?"_

"Yeah. Something stupid. _"_ , lamented Shepard.

Dr. Ceres turned and scowled at the woman. "Is that really your best option? Something stupid? Wonderful."

"Hey, I'm open to feedback and suggestions, here.", defended Shepard. "And it's not so much stupid as it is risky. We need transport, and an armored vehicle is exactly what we need right now." The woman huffed. "Look, I know what I'm doing! We just steal the damn thing and haul ass!"

Miranda furrowed her brow and moved over to the other woman. "...a hijacking? Not impossible, but we'd need to force them to stop and not use the turret before it tears us apart."

Shepard nodded. "Not only that, but we need them to deploy out of the back, as as well getting the driver to expose himself. Barracudas are heavy, handle like a cinderblock and built like tanks. Cracking their armor without killing Zaeed, according to him, isn't an option.", she said, scratching her cheek. "They hold seven in the back and one in the front, so we have to assume we've got eight hostiles to deal with."

Dr. Ceres pressed her lips into a thin line. "Three against eight. You're right, this is suicidal."

" _It isn't if blow their fucking brains out, lady. High ground with a sniper rifle is a helluva force multiplier."_

Miranda crossed her arms, deep in thought. "We've also got surprise in our favor, so...we need a barricade, but one they can't just drive or shoot through…"

Shepard blinked and snapped her fingers as it came to her. "Got it. We fire off a few bursts near the entrance and order everyone outside to create a natural roadblock. Then, we slip in among them, and wait for the mercs to show themselves.", she said, her voice and expression hardening in tandem. "Mercs may be stupid, but most aren't psychotic. They're fighting other PMCs and gangs out there, not civvies." The woman glanced at the pile of bodies around them. "Not intentionally, at least."

Miranda grimaced. "While it is true that not even Aria would order her men to drive through crowds like that…", she said warily. "...it's not the wisest option, Shepard. They'd just scatter in a panic."

"Or tear us apart." Dr. Ceres shook her head. "They're hurt and angry. Never underestimate the power of a riled up mob."

Miranda nodded. "Exactly. Getting them outside, of their own will, is ideal. If we trigger the fire alarms and herd everyone outside, posing as staff, we've got a good chance of pulling this off.", she stated plainly.

Shepard rubbed her temples. "...right, yes. Much better idea. Let's do that.", she said, turning to the good doctor. "Doctor Ceres, I need you to-

"I'm not posing as staff. I actually work here.", interjected Dr. Ceres. She glared at Shepard, her grip tightening on the wheelchair. "I was in surgery for seven hours, and the faces out here haven't changed. I won't abandon them.", she said with a frown. "Take her from my care if you want, but don't you dare just assume I'm coming with you."

"Yes, you are." Shepard's blue-grey eyes grew dark as she set her jaw. "We can't let her die on this station." she said confidently, her tone absolute. The woman flashed her teeth.. "Do you have any fucking idea what'll happen if she does?"

Dr. Ceres bit her lip. "I do.", she whispered, matching Shepard's intensity. "I don't want that to happen, but I've already done my part." The asari doctor tilted her head, glaring at the other woman. "The rest is above my paygrade. None of my fucking concern."

"Wrong. You know who she is.", she said, frowning. Shepard drew her pistol and pressed the barrel against the doctor's head with frightening speed. "You come with, and we've got a fighting chance." She flicked off the safety. "You stay, Aria finds you and we lose everything.", said Shepard, sounding more and more desperate. Her expression became pained, filling with regret. "...please, don't make me do this. You know she'll just fuck it out of you."

The asari doctor was silent for a long moment, staring down the barrel of the gun without so much as a flinch. "...fine.", she growled, bowing her head slightly. "Just do it fast."

"Thank you." Shepard sighed, smiling sadly as the tension melted away. "And we can do that." She holstered her pistol and turned to Miranda, who was now leaning against the wall beside a fire alarm. It worried her that other woman hadn't jumped to defend Dr. Ceres, but Shepard supposed there was time for that later. "Zaeed, ETA?"

" _Fifty seconds. Rooftops and windows are still clear."_

"Miranda, trigger it in ten.", she said to the other woman, who nodded in response. "Guaranteed kills only, Zaeed. We can't give them time to figure out what's happening."

" _Roger that. I've got a good feeling about this plan, and I'm guddamn happy to be a part of it."_

"Of course you are..." Miranda took a deep breath. She pulled the fire alarm, setting off ear shattering sirens throughout the clinic.

-(|)-

Rolan Quarn was nearly crushed by the mercenaries sitting beside him as the Barracuda screeched to a halt. The squad leader lost his footing and fell onto one of the bulky batarians, who quickly shoved the rather angry commander back onto his feet. "Rattik! What the hell are you doing?! Keep driving!", yelled the commander into the radio. Alarms, thankfully from outside of the IFV, roared around them.

" _Sir, that may not be the best idea. About two hundred people just came sprinting out of the clinic. They're panicked, and those sound like fire alarms."_

The squad leader covered his face with his palm. "Did you try the horn?"

" _Not yet."_ The horn blared. " _Now they're just screaming at us. They look pretty pissed, sir."_

"Well, then try it again."

The horn blared, again.

" _Nope."_

"Dammit! Pop the hatch and tell them to make a hole! We have to keep moving!"

" _Got it."_

Rolan hummed and looked between the rest of his team. "Well, this is certainly an odd coincidence.", he said, knowing all too well that no such thing existed. Coincidences dropped your guard, and the turian con artist wasn't in the business of looking the fool.

That was a job best left to everyone else.

-(|)-

Shepard smirked as the top hatch of the Barracuda IFV flipped open. The turian driver waved his arms without confidence as he tried to order the huddled mass of injured and sick that blocked the vehicle's path.

The group was packed together so closely that Shepard could feel the breath of eight people on her neck. They all collectively screamed and sobbed at the turian, demanding medical attention and a stop to the madness.

"Hey, alright! Everybody! Can you please just...move aside! HEY! Move along! Nothing to see here! Make a hole! Spirits, we can't exactly drive through you! JUST MOVE!", shouted the turian, his patience vanishing rather quickly.

"FUCK YOU, BIRD!", Shepard screamed back. "IT'S PEOPLE LIKE YOU THAT SENT US HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

Needing no further motivation, the rest of the crowd started hurling insults and rage at the driver. The turian, oddly enough, even tried to meekly apologize to a few of the more explicit remarks.

Shepard made eye contact with Miranda and Dr. Ceres through the crowd. She readied the spectre's weapon and flicked off the safety. "Go.", she whispered into the comm.

The turian's head collapsed as the crack of Zaeed's rifle echoed through the air, spewing grey matter and blue blood across the windshield of the IFV. " _Got 'em."_

Shepard launched herself up and over the crowd with a biotics assisted leap, catching sight of Miranda making a small path to sprint through by 'parting the waters' with two elongated barrier walls below her, and landed just beside the front wheels.

She ran to the back wheels of the Barracuda, just as the rear loading ramp slammed open. Shepard pinned herself to the vehicle, barely out of view. Six heavily armed Blue Suns mercenaries surged out of the IFV, one of them loudly complaining about lazy drivers.

" _Six of 'em. Heavily armed. Machine guns, shotguns, knives, grenades.",_ grunted Zaeed, as two rifle shots cracked from the roof.  _"_ _Two less, now. Not gonna chance hitting you when it goes CQC."_

Shepard frowned, thinking quickly. "Four outside, assume one inside.", she grunted in the comm, beginning to radiate a recurring biotic sonar. Six large masses, though, without line of sight, determining their movements and direction wasn't something she could do very quickly. The two dead ones were horizontal to the ground, but that was about all she got.

Before she could issue out a quick plan of attack, one of the mercenaries rounded the corner. "Oh. Hey.", the woman said, scanning his equipment. Shotgun, knives, grenades.

"Uh. Hello?", replied the batarian merc, confused. Halting any chance of a counter attack, Shepard biotically lashed him toward her, spinning him around in the process, and snapped his neck. His body fell to the ground, and the woman heard a steady stream of machine pistol fire from the other side of the IFV.

" _One down.",_ said Miranda.

"Same here.", she replied, wrapping herself in a biotic overbarrier. Shepard pivoted out of cover and her instincts, in tandem with her active sonar, kicked in, bringing the slim barrel to bare at the nearest human merc and firing a long burst into her spine. The polonium rounds melted through her heavy armor as she writhed to the ground with a scream.

On the other side of the loading ramp, Miranda kicked out a turian mercenary's legs and sent her flying down the street with a powerful biotic throw. The woman closed her fist, enveloping the merc in surging blue waves, and vaporized the turian in mid-air.

Shepard clipped the spectre's sidearm to her belt and scooped up the fallen human's shotgun. She slapped a fresh thermal clip into it and motioned Miranda toward the loading ramp. The women rounded the corner, weapons raised at the eighth and final mercenary, and were greeted with a very confusing sight.

A barefaced, unarmed turian mercenary, holding his hands above his head.

"You win. I surrender."

-(|)-

Despite his voluntary surrender, Rolan was rather violently thrown out onto the prefabbed street of Gozu. He landed on his stomach, causing yet another dent and scuff on his armor. Lucky for him, that only made it more authentic. "There's no need to be so violent. Though, I suppose you're not the type to appreciate a gentleman.", said the turian con artist, his tone resonating playfully.

The woman with the dark hair tied into a bun, who'd tossed him so effortlessly, rolled her eyes and pinned him to the ground with her foot on his neck. "Shepard, this is clearly a trick. Turians don't surrender. Let's just kill him."

The other woman, presumably Shepard, lowered her weapon. "What? Why?" She said as she knelt down next to him, her expression changing very rapidly. "We're not doing that, Miranda. Not unless he's actually a threat." The woman furrowed her brow at him. "Are you?"

"Not to those such as yourself, no." The turian pulled his mandibles back in a small smile. "All of my weapons are organized, disabled and unloaded inside of the cabin. I didn't fire, nor did I even get up from my seat."

Shepard frowned and stood up. "So you're a coward, then?"

"Not at all. I'd just rather not be associated with the Blue Suns any longer.", he said with a shrug. "Incompetent leadership can be very useful at times, but...I wouldn't say this is one of them, would you?"

The woman half-scoffed, looking a little charmed, if not amused. "No, I suppose I wouldn't."

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me!", groaned a very gruff, grizzled and angry looking man. He stomped over to the downed turian with a scowl. "What kind of turian is a guddamn coward!? I swear to God, Vido is running the Suns into the ground!"

Miranda looked at the man, baffled. "Zaeed, How did you get down here so quickly? I thought your skycar was dead metal."

Zaeed scoffed. "You know, for those of us not born with fucking blue brain magic, rappel lines work stupid well for getting down from high places.", he said gruffly, patting the roll of high tensile strength tether on his belt.

"Calm down." Shepard eyed the man sidelong. "Still, it is a little weird for him to hire a turian who isn't..." She raised a brow, turning back to Rolan. "...very turian. You're not a merc, are you, bird?"

"Not in any sense of the word. Aria showed her hand, and I kept close to those with the most guns. Eventually, they just assumed I was one of them, which was general the idea." Rolan tilted his head. "Standing behind those with the most guns seemed the best plan for survival, but now I'm thinking that you three may be a far better option."

"Fine. He's most likely not a threat.", said Miranda. She scoffed. "We don't have time for this. Why don't we just tie him up, shove him in the back and deal with him later?"

"Good idea." Shepard nodded. "Zaeed, salvage what equipment you can.", she said as she stored her large pack into the cabin. "Doctor Ceres, we're clear. Load the package, double time! We are getting the hell out of here!", the woman barked, presumably over a radio.

The Miranda pulled the turian con artist to his feet, and cocked her head at Zaeed. "Do you mind?"

"Nah, this part's fun." Zaeed laughed and quickly bound Rolan's hands and arms behind his back with the tether. "Alright, in you go dumbass.", he said as she shoved the turian into the back corner of the cabin.

Miranda sat down next to him, crossing her arms with a frown. "You saw what I did to that other turian, correct?"

"Indeed I did."

"You try anything, the same happens to you. Are we clear?", she said, glaring.

Rolan slowly nodded, needing no further convincing that she wasn't one to make threats lightly. "We are."

"Good."

Dr. Ceres quickly pushed a wheelchair bound asari, whose head was encased entirely in gauze and medical tape, around the corner of the IFV. "I concede my previous hesitation. This worked...perfectly." She looked at the turian, shrugged, and then wheeled the asari into the cabin. "Who's driving, by the way?", said the asari doctor as she secured the masked woman to the interior.

"That'd be me." Shepard cocked a brow confidently and biotically lept onto the roof of the Barracuda. "Fair warning, it's a bumpy ride!", she said as she jogged to the front.

"That's really guddamn encouraging!", the man yelled after her. He grumbled as he loaded several machine guns, shotguns, grenades and other pieces of weaponry into the Barracuda. After securing them onto the weapon racks, he sealed the ramp and sat down next to the conscious asari. He was silent for a few moments before looking around curiously. "...anyone else feel like we forgot something?"

-(|)-

Dr. Mordin Solus was, at the same time, incredibly impressed and very much distraught. Shepard's plan of faking a fire to hijack an armored vehicle to escape with their injured friend, likely the asari Aria was looking for: brilliant. Was also very, very stupid. Unnecessary risk.

Perhaps wasn't. As he carried his case of portable instruments through the receding crowd, it became clear that the stakes were higher than he'd thought. Not only that, but she'd had a greybox. Stained with asari blood. Odd. Specific. Significant.

Mordin's mind raced through a thousand possibilities at once, trying to deduce exactly who the asari was. "Targeted, coordinated attack on de facto Terminus figurehead by powerful asari. Expensive, unique equipment. Greybox, belonging to third asari. Not Aria." He shook his head. "...cosmetic damage suggests method of removal resulted in death or coma. Aria called for Hunt, referenced recent events. Not dead, possibly injured."

The good doctor looked up at still raging dog-fighting above him, narrowing his black eyes. "...Nexus Massacre most likely Zaeed's efforts, as injuries associated with massacre match asari's. Also pre-established goal of near-suicidal flight path. Shepard chose not to kill, even after fight, but protect." Mordin blinked several times and picked up his pace to the IFV.

Shepard, who was cleaning turian innards off of the Barracuda's viewport, looked up as she heard him. She frowned, looking very worried. "Mordin, what the hell are you doing out here?"

Mordin cleared his throat. "Unable to save remaining patients with current resources. Can do most good with you. Besides, rest of staff will help those they can."

"As much as I'd like to get that surgery as soon as possible..." Shepard furrowed her brow. "...the right thing to do isn't to just...blindly follow me. I'm not really sure why people are doing that right now, actually..."

"Natural leader, slump into position when vacant. Who you are.", he said, dismissing the topic as less than relevant. "Also, geneticist, not practitioner of internal medicine. Common misconception, often don't bother correcting it."

"Right. I keep forgetting that." She shook her head, embarrassed. "Look, just get in the car before we get shot! I'll explain later!"

"No, no, no! Almost have it!", he replied, almost giddy.

"What?", she blinked, confused. "Almost have what?"

"Morality and background indicates asari is of military, political, nationalist importance, but contradicts past victories. Asari commandos among them. Must be something more. More important..." He grinned directly at Shepard, his eyes snapping open wide. "Asari is citadel agent! Spectre! Protection due to understanding political consequences of asari's death by current context! Exposure of council plot to assassinate Aria incites intragalactic war between Terminus and Citadel! Cost millions, possibly billions of lives! Loose borders! Battle lines drawn by concept of freedom! War of ideologies splits-"

"MORDIN!", screamed Shepard, her head so red with rage it looked like it was about to pop. "SHUT UP AND GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!" She stabbed her index finger at the back of the IFV. "NOW!"

"...should...not have said last part."

-(|)-

Save for Aria and her most trusted lieutenants, Afterlife was completely abandoned. The deep, pounding bass was still present, but without the gaggle of almost permanently aroused asari grinding up against everything, it didn't quite feel like home. The bright neon lights had dimmed, and her custodial staff had long since cleaned up the mess left in the wake of her previous announcement.

They'd all left of their own accord, and Aria wasn't one to make them stay. Her nightclub was still open to the public, even if the heavy mechs and turrets outside turned some of the stupider mercenaries into putty now and then. No one had returned, and the pirate queen was well aware of the reason.

Aria blinked, her cold eyes unwilling to see the dire consequences of her lust for control. A dozen projected vidscreens surrounded her, each playing a live feed of the utter destructive chaos happening all across the station. The property damage was in the millions of credits, mostly aesthetics and dockyards, but the wave of wanton obliteration was slowly encroaching on the life support systems. Casualties were estimated in the tens of thousands so far, but the pirate queen knew it would only grow if she couldn't stop the madness of her own design.

Omega was at war with itself in a thousand different ways. Fighters, gunships and other attack craft swarmed her skies like rachni, creating an impenetrable wall of fire and steel. Every single mercenary, vigilante, paramilitary, and political faction in the terminus weren't just at each other's throats anymore.

They were tearing them out and feeding them to the ever growing sea of red vorcha.

The pirate queen crossed her arms, very unamused at the news she'd just received. "...how exactly did these 'red vorcha' get out of the pits, Bray?", asked Aria, staring at a very battle scarred Bray over the vidcomm. "Those incinerators weren't cheap, so I'm eager to learn as to why you didn't think to use them."

" _We did, actually. Didn't work, since they tore out the heating coils. We set a few on fire, but it only made 'em mate faster."_

"Brilliant. Our primary defense against the regular vorcha is just an aphrodisiac for the red ones." Aria narrowed her eyes. "Should I be worried about this getting out of hand, or will the idiots who keep tearing apart my station eventually sort this out?"

" _I know I'd be worried if the combined volume of an invincible, krogan sized super-vorcha horde was a cubic kilometer, but then again, I'm not in charge._ "

"I believe I heard that wrong." The pirate queen blinked. That couldn't be right. "Do you mean that, if we shoved all of them in a box, the box would have to be that large to fit all of them?"

" _Pretty much."_

Aria took a very small breath. "That is indeed a very large problem. Sealing off parts of the station is an ineffective containment strategy, correct?"

" _Yeah. Like I said, they can claw through basically everything that isn't a cruiser."_

"Fine. Anything else?", she asked blithely.

" _They've flooded the lower districts, mostly through your private tunnel system. So that's something we'll have to deal with directly. Gozu, Ikina and Kenzo seem to be hit the hardest. For now, as far as we can tell, they're staying away from Doru and Tuhi."_

"I'm well aware that my bunker and our life support systems have been largely unaffected, Bray.", she said, frowning. "I may still be in Afterlife, but that doesn't make me blind."

" _Ok. Anyway, they're in the tunnels, so they'll probably make their way there eventually. If somebody else doesn't do it first, I guess."_

"Thank you, Bray.", she said snidely. Aria turned away from the vidcomm and back to the devastation spreading across Omega. "I want you, Gavorn and Patriarch to start consolidating what forces you can in order to combat this threat. Your goal is, if you cannot kill them, to draw them towards the idiots tearing apart my station until we can figure out a way to wipe them out."

" _You got it. Stay safe."_

The connection closed, and Aria was left wondering how she was supposed to deal with a super-vorcha infestation when she wasn't even able to placate, or protect, her own peasants. She frowned, pacing around the vidscreens as she soaked in the damage and grew ever angrier.

Living in the Terminus had taught her that playing dirty was the only way to dominate those that were dirtier. That is, until her iron hold on the station had slipped ever so slightly. For a few hours, Omega had thought her dead, so naturally there was a rush to fill the perceived power vacuum. The Hunt was supposed to neutralize that threat by focusing their collective blood lust on a single target.

It was one of the dirtiest plays she could make, and it didn't work. In fact, it had only made things worse. All she'd really done was order a bunch of krogan to stomp out a varren after she'd locked them in her basement. They'd just fight each other, because they didn't care. Hopefully, at the very least, that asari, who had most likely killed Shepard and Zaeed by now, would be caught in the crossfire.

Aria grunted, sat down on her couch and continued to watch her once beautiful station destroy itself. "Has anyone responded to the cease fires we've sent out, Grizz?", she asked the turian, who was overseeing the team of techs as they organized as much strategic data as they could.

"Which one?", he asked grimly, his mandibles tightening onto his cheeks.

Aria clenched her teeth. "All seven of them."

"Besides the usual 'fuck off' and 'fuck you', no, no one has responded."

"What about the teams I deployed to protect the residential districts?", she asked more hopefully. If any of the dozens of plans she'd set into motion over the past few hours had a chance of succeeding, it was that one.

Grizz looked at a few datapads and grumbled. "...Teams two through seven are now literal heads on pikes, thanks to Jona Sederis. The rest have not checked in." He handed her a datapad with a picture of the asari in question holding up a very freshly severed salarian head on a pike. 'Greetings from Omega!' was written in bright bold letters above her.

"It...certainly sends a message. I have no idea what that message is, but it's...sending me one.", she said, raising a brow. "The founder of Eclipse is as powerful a biotic as she is clinically insane, and every day she loses her mind a little bit more. " Aria tossed the datapad onto the couch and glared at the turian. "I have seen her crush a freighter while drowning in biotic suppressants. I didn't know she was here, and at the moment I don't care how that slipped the net. She's the single largest threat to this station outside of the red vorcha, so we need her taken out. Contact the Blue Suns, and tell them I want to speak to Vido personally."

Grizz nodded, and in less than a minute, Vido's permanently five-o-clock shadowed mug was plastered over the vidcomm. He was scowling, as he often did. " _So the great and powerful Aria desires help from the Blue Suns. Didn't you hear we own a third of Omega now? We don't need to listen to you anymore! Tell me, why should I_ -"

Aria rolled her eyes. "Shut up. You went from a fifth to a third and can do basic math. Good for you. How much for Jona Sederis's head?"

" _Depends. Dead or alive?_ ", replied Vido, all of his macho boasting melting away in an instant. The man was a coward, and most knew it.

"Dead, you idiot.", growled the pirate queen. "I said her head, not her entire body bound, gagged, covered in elasa and dropped on my doorstep by a pair of monster-cocked krogan and their pet transgender human male like some sort of confusing sexual fantasy!"

Vido stared in shock, his skin turning pale. " _...how the hell did you know-_ "

Aria grew a demonic grin and lowered her voice. "I fucked it out of one of your lovers. What was her name? Jentha?", she teased as she leaned back on the couch and castled her fingers. "Now, let's talk price. If I don't like it, I may just release a few of those wonderful facts about you to the public."

" _Ten thousand!_ ", spat Vido.

Aria yawned and waved Grizz over. "Grizz, be a dear and send a comm burst to everyone on the station detailing all of Vido's shortcomings, mistakes and secrets, would you?"

" _No! Okay, free! I'll do it for free!_ ", panicked Vido, his entire head now drenched in flop sweat.

"Deal. Let me know when it's done." Aria closed the link and smirked to herself. She may have lost control on an administrative level, but she was still the queen on every other.

-(|)-

Shepard grumbled and ignited the Barracuda's engine, the thirty ton war machine roaring to life. Her hands flew over the haptic controls, switching them out for manual controls. The orange displays vanished as the conventional wheel, command buttons, and pedals slid into place. She adjusted each part to fit her stature and swept her palms over of wheel thoughtfully.

Manual controls made driving feel natural, as if the vehicle was an extension of her body. A fourth leg, as biotics had long been her third.

"Last call! Everyone secure?", she barked through the IFV's internal comm. Mordin's abrupt outburst at everything she was trying so desperately to hide from Aria had trashed her mood, denying her the opportunity to savor the small victory they'd had by stealing the Barracuda.

If he wasn't going out of his way to save her life, she'd punch him in the head.

" _We're fine. Go.",_  replied Dr. Ceres.

" _Yes! Keep moving! Can't risk more exposure to gangs and mercenaries. Need to stay hidden. Safe. Zaeed a bad model for vehicle operation!",_ interjected Mordin, somehow talking even faster than normal.

" _Oh, shut up.",_ grumbled Zaeed. " _I swear, you cause one big accident and suddenly it's the only thing you've ever done."_

Miranda sighed so loudly that Shepard was surprised she could hear it.  _"_ _It was only eight hours ago, not five years. The memory is still very fresh."_

The woman scowled and locked the loading ramp into place, and slammed her foot onto the accelerator. The Barracuda roared as it rolled forward across the long, debris ridden streets of Gozu. It was much slower than she remembered and, as she struggled to dodge the upper half of a crashing gunship, realized that it was handling even worse than a cinderblock.

"Zaeed, deal with it, and take control of the turret. Fire on anything too fast for us to outrun.", she said as she scanned the dashboard for something to fix the IFV's lack of gusto. Shepard shot the switch labeled 'Six-Wheel Drive' a hard look and flipped it. "...why would anyone disable that...?", she wondered aloud in a whisper.

The big red button next to it had no label at all, but Shepard remembered exactly what it did. She'd never gotten the chance to use it, as it was a serious danger to everyone on board, and part of her still resented her instructors for drilling the potential consequences into her brain all those years ago. The woman actually had to slap her hand away from pressing it, which didn't surprise her in the least.

The Barracuda clacked loudly, the control system switching over, and the woman instantly felt the difference. Shepard felt like she could jump bridges, weave in and out of rockets, and smash her way through an apartment building all at once.

" _Got it. How fast can these go, anyway?",_ asked Zaeed.

Shepard banked the Barracuda around a corner, weaving in and out of debris with grace and skill one wouldn't normally associate with armored vehicles. She smirked, rather enjoying this small bit of physical isolation from the hodgepodge of misfits she'd managed to manifest over the past ten hours. "Not sure, Zaeed. Last time I drove one of these things, I think I got it up to 150 kilometers an hour. I was running from a carpet bombing at the time, so I wasn't paying too close attention to the speed.", she chuckled.

" _As impressive an anecdote as that is, Shepard, I'm sending you a navpoint.",_ directed Miranda. " _My skycar is just a block away from our position, and I keep a cache of rather...important equipment in it's trunk."_

"The fuck do I look like, a taxi driver?", Shepard growled, smashing the front of the Barracuda through an abandoned gang checkpoint. Jury-rigged walls of thin metal sheets split open to make way for the IFV's raging bulk. "We don't have time for that."

All six tires rolled over and crushed a line of dead skycars once used as a barricade before utterly flattening a pair of toll booths. Some of Omega's gangs were remarkably well organized, it seemed.

" _It's the jet black skycar one hundred meters in front of you. It has gold accents, and...here, let me flicker the lights..."_

"Oh. I see it." Shepard slowed the Barracuda as a jet black skycar, one among many in a very large parking lot, did indeed flicker its lights. "...guess we do have time for it, huh." She checked the sensors and shrugged as the radar and ladar scans came up clean. "Zaeed, I've got nothing on instruments. You see anything?" The woman pushed the vehicle forward, driving over row after row of skycars toward Miranda's own.

" _Not a guddamn thing, Shepard. It's a ghost town down here. Up there, though, is still one big clusterfuck."_

"We don't have to worry about them, for the moment. As long as nobody fires a signal flare or-"

The Barracuda rolled over the front bumper of an older model skycar, activating it's anti-theft alarm. The blaring, panicked siren echoed off into the distance, which set off a slew of other car alarms both several blocks away and in the parking lot.

Shepard seethed, her hands gripping the wheel so hard that it audibly strained to keep its shape. "Miranda, get out, grab your crap, and get your ass back here! Now!", she said as she dropped the ramp. "What kind of an idiot gets a car alarm installed on Omega?!" She slammed her forehead against the wheel, unintentionally sounding the horn.

" _If I had to hazard a guess...a very wealthy idiot, I'd say.",_  replied the snarky turian.

"You, bird, the fuck's your name?", Shepard snapped back.

" _Rolan Quarn. And yours?"_

"Rolan Quarn, my name is Karen Gwendolyn Shepard and if you don't keep your mouth shut..."

-(|)-

" _...I'M GOING TO TEAR OUT YOUR THROAT WITH MY TEETH AND SHIT DOWN YOUR NECK!",_ screamed Shepard, her anger reverberating through the Barracuda's internal speakers. " _I HAVE ZERO PATIENCE FOR BULLSHIT TODAY!"_

Miranda bolted out of the IFV and toward her car, scrambling over the wreckage and burning debris that littered the area. She passed a squad of dead mercenaries, their faceplates shattered inward, but didn't pay them any mind. They were dead, and she was busy.

Her skycar was, sadly, riddled with bullet holes and covered in its own shattered glass. The roof was caved in, and Miranda winced at the prospect of having to file an insurance claim for the damage. She could justify 'Act of God', but then she'd be playing right into Aria's hand.

Mercifully, the trunk was the one part of her skycar that seemed relatively intact. She popped it open and waved her omni-tool over the seemingly empty compartment. The floor slid back, revealing an expensive suit of black, white and gold armor. Two orange bisected hexagons, the larger parallel over the other, adorned the right breast and helmet. Beside it was a weapon rack filled with machine pistols, a few prototype assault rifles, disk grenades, along with a slew of other useful gadgets and tools.

" _Be advised, I'm picking up...what the...seismic activity?"_ , relayed Shepard. _"_ _That can't be right. It looks like a rapid series of 1.3 earthquakes, because apparently the Richter scale still applies to Omega. Seriously, how old is this?_ "

"That's impossible.", said Miranda as she reached out with her biotics. Her armor glowed with a faint blue haze, and very rapidly assembling itself on to her body with perfect, practiced precision. It hissed as the environmental seal locked into place, her helmet's situational awareness package quickly coming online as well. "We're on a space station built out of an asteroid. There aren't any active fault lines, nor could there be."

" _It's probably a broken sensor, Shepard. You just drove over a few dozen skycars, so that's most likely the reason.",_  insisted Dr. Ceres. " _I've lived here for fifty years, and not once have I heard of, or felt, anything resembling an earthquake."_

" _Could be...high explosives. Not too far below surface. Mining charges. Possibly breaching blast doors. Bunkers, reactors, many places of great importance! Hermatic seals powerful, not invincible!",_ rebutted Mordin.

" _Hold up. I'm getting a similar frequency of tremors, but now it's at a...2.5? Miranda, you feel anything?"_

Miranda surveyed her equipment for damage, and was faintly aware of a small disturbance in the ground. "Just barely. I might've missed it if you hadn't asked."

" _Not a broken sensor, then. Huh."_

Mordin made an 'ah' sound. " _Recall rachni attack patterns. Very similar. Light tremors, then larger. Grow until sinkholes, landslides, breaches in earth. Then, swarm from below. Proved effective even against krogan. Can shoot up, not down."_

" _Rachni? The...bug things that nearly wiped out the galaxy? Pretty sure they've been extinct for around two thousand years.",_ said Shepard, clearly trying to convince herself it was true. Miranda knew better, but it wasn't her place to say.

" _Most likely, though unproven. Margin of error. Extinction of sapient race long, difficult process. Krogan impatient by nature, may have cut corners."_

" _That's ridiculous. Doctor Solus, I can't imagine they'd turn their backs on the greatest enemy they'd ever known due to poor work ethic.",_ said Dr. Ceres. " _Much of krogan ideology was, and still is, simplistic and tribal in nature. An enemy must be vanquished to prove one's superiority, not out of honor or self-defense. Both turians and asari shared a similar mentality in their early cultural development, but what's most interesting, considering the turians are their homeworld's apex predator and the krogan were very much prey, is that both of them came to nearly the same conclusion regarding warfare.",_ she wondered aloud. " _On the other hand, the asari learned to talk."_

" _Wow. That was...both very informative and slightly racist.",_ Shepard said, clearing her throat. " _...are you sure you're a surgeon?",_ she asked, her inflection betraying her anxiety.

" _Positive. I wasn't always, obviously. Nobody is one thing for their entire lives."_

" _Unaware you dabbled in phsycological xeno-anthropology before founding clinic. Would like to hear more, after current situation dealt with of course.",_ said Mordin, surprised.

"Yes, by all means have an academic discussion about nature versus nurture. Perfect use of our time." Miranda locked the assault rifles, machine pistols, thermal clips, and grenades onto her armor's hard points. The combined weight was far heavier than she was used to, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. As she moved to secure the rest of her equipment, she felt another flurry of quakes, this one slightly rattling the metal frame of the skycars around her. "...alright, I definitely felt that one."

" _3.5, that time. Look, Doctor Ceres is interesting. We get it. Whatever's going on, it's not rachni, but if it was, how do we...prepare against sinkholes, Mordin?"_

" _Difficult to counter. Would need flamethrowers, landmines. Again, high explosives useful. Biotics, possibly, if area of effect large enough."_

" _...so all the guddamn stuff we've been saving for when shit's hit the fan? Lucky us, not carrying a fucking armory on our backs."_

"Whatever it is, it's not our problem.", said Miranda. She sealed the reinforced briefcase that held the rest of her tech, essentially everything that wasn't designed as a weapon, and hauled it back toward the Barracuda. "On my way back."

" _Acknowledged.",_ replied Shepard. " _We've still got some ways to go, so everyone stay alert. No telling what we'll-"_

Just then, a series of rampant tremors shook the ground, causing Miranda lose her footing. She fell on her side, tightening her grip on the briefcase. A few dilapidated buildings, no doubt collateral damage from the chaotic gang war, lost half of their walls as they fell onto the street, kicking up dust and debris. Stacked skycars tipped over and collapsed, ironically crushing one another into a different kind of pile up.

" _Shit, that was a 6.1! Miranda, we are leaving!",_ said Shepard, raising her voice. " _Right now!_

"Thirty seconds!", grunted Miranda as she scrambled to her feet, her mind racing as to what, besides the rachni, could possibly cause such a powerful tremor. A frigate's drive core exploding, but that was hard to miss. Small kinetic impactors, but they'd certainly hear those as well as feel them. High explosives, sure, but the sheer volume would sever the district from the station itself.

The tremors, the shattered face plates and windows, Mordin's reference to swarm attack patterns. It all clicked into place.

"RED VORCHA!", she yelled, her words laced with fear. The recordings Zaeed had sent to her, Shepard and Dr. Ceres were more than enough to impart the horrific threat they posed. Only ten meters from the Barracuda. She could make it, and then they'd drive off before getting overrun. It'd be close, but they'd escape.

" _Oh, you've got to be shitting me!",_ roared Zaeed.

" _Fuck, I think she's right!",_ snapped Shepard. _"_ _Sensors picking up one, no two hundred plus contacts, all around us! Goddamnit, I'm gunning it! I knew we shouldn't have stopped!"_

"I'm almost-" Another quake sent her tumbling to the ground, falling flat on her stomach as she lost her hold on the briefcase. It slid across the street, which cracked and splintered as a tiny, high pitched shriek slipped through the floor.

Miranda's deep blue eyes widened in terror as she felt her faceplate warble. She rolled onto her back and frantically twisted her helmet off, just as the reinforced glass shattered inward. Shards ricocheted off of the interior and sliced through the length of her left cheek. Several streams of blood seeped down her face from the long, shallow wounds as she yelped in pain.

The IFV was already pulling away, its ramp sealed tight.

She tossed the helmet away and, despite feeling as though she'd just been stabbed in the face, forced herself onto her feet. Miranda snatched up the briefcase and froze as she saw the prefabbed floor collapse just in front of the Barracuda.

" _Crap crap crap crap crap SHIT!"_

It veered out of the way, only to have more patches of crumbling ground block its escape. The armored vehicle was thrown into a hard turn and roared back towards Miranda. The IFV came to a screeching stop just beside her as she felt opposite end of the parking lot fall below the surface. The floor continued to collapse in a large circle around them, sealing them in with just enough room to maneuver.

Miranda had fallen prey to the same tragic misconception that the salarians had made over two thousand years prior. She assumed monsters were nothing more than animals, and could not have been more wrong.

They were being taunted and challenged by a superior force of both numbers and strength. Boxed in, with no hope of escape or back up, and the bastards seemed aware of it. No, they were aware of it. They understood the situation completely, and wanted to play with their food.

As the red vorcha swarmed through the breach around them, their shriek becoming deafening, Miranda accepted the cruel irony of her fate. "...those who refuse to learn history are doomed to repeat it...", she whispered, realizing that humanity truly wasn't that different from anyone else. Cerberus was wrong. They weren't special or-

The ear shattering boom of Barracuda's cannon ended her train of thought, the high explosive round turning a clump of the monsters into nothing more than scattered limbs. It spun around, spraying the less effective coaxial machine gun at the advancing horde as it sounded off with its main gun in tandem, blasting holes in their line from every direction.

Before she could even begin to remember what she was thinking of, Shepard vaulted out of the top hatch, her body surging with arcs of sharp blue, and violently swiped the air in front of her. A dozen vorcha were engulfed in a wide area warp field, their bodies very quickly beginning to fall apart. With a grunt, the woman closed her outstretched hand into a fist, blowing the afflicted vorcha to hell and wounding several others.

In the span of five seconds, Shepard and Zaeed had managed to kill twenty of these seemingly invincible monsters. "Shepard, catch!", said Miranda, tossing the other woman one of her prototype assault rifles.

Shepard caught it, sighted it and gathered more dark energy. "Thanks for the weird looking Mattock. Explain your armor and face later.", she growled as she lifted a cluster of vorcha into the air, crushed them together, and slammed them back into the ground in a burst of blue light. "Don't just stand there! Keep them at range, dammit!"

"Right!" Miranda hurled ten of them back into the breach with a wide-area throw, and whipped a few not-exactly-legal-in-Citadel-space acid disk grenades into the advancing horde, instantly melting the legs of those that were caught in the blast into goop.

As more and more of them went down by their combined efforts, even though their numbers didn't seem to be thinning, Miranda felt a hint of pride as a stray thought entered her mind.

The krogan weren't the only ones good at killing giants monsters.

-(|)-

Jona Sederis was thriving. Where the weak and pitiful of Omega were neck deep in their own piss, the founder of Eclipse was intoxicated by the chaotic power struggle erupting around her. Everyone was desperately reaching for dominance, as if they had any chance of succeeding. A sense of righteous duty had slithered down the throats of those who grasped for the throne, and it was that self-perpetuating mandate that amused Sederis to no end.

"We're freeing Omega from Aria!", she'd heard many say. As a rebuttal, she'd melted their throats. While the best diplomats could debate without speech, even they knew that bleeding profusely was a juvenile argument against their own murder.

Other had beckoned "The Suns will rule the Terminus!". Sederis had thought that adorable, and shredded their optic nerves as a show of brutal irony. She was the only one laughing, but entertaining one's self through humor was the purest form of it. If others enjoyed it, that was merely a bonus.

Sederis's favorite moronic boast was that "The Terminus will rise!". The asari hadn't a single idea as to what that even meant, but the more often she'd heard it, the more it piqued her curiosity. Hopefully, the Blood Pack battlemaster she'd been repeatedly beating to regen-death would have answers for her.

The brutal asari slammed her boot down onto the krogan's crest, the natural armor that had hardened over countless centuries splintering loudly. He roared and charged to tackle the woman, only for her to pivot out of the way and smash his now wounded head into a wall covered in dried. splattered blood of all races. The krogan's nerve fluid splashed against the bulkhead, adding pale yellow to the morbid canvas of stains. He slumped to the ground, growling and broken.

"What the fuck do you want from me?!", roared the battlemaster.

Sederis smirked and bent down over him, her pale yellow form fitting armor mirroring the wall's color pallet. The deep batarian red acted as her warpaint, its strong presence balanced by the intimidating indigo of her own kind. Turian blue traced her throat, and her grin only made it more menacing. "Information. Entertainment. Stimulation. Euphoria is a glorious state of mind, whelp.", she spat, flashing her teeth as she used his own kind's insults against him. "And you are going to help me stay there."

The krogan eyed her, both enraged and confused. "I have no fucking idea what that means."

Sederis laughed once, and her white eyes began to glow fiercely. "So, I shall clarify." The battlemaster was encased in a series of localized stasis fields around each limb, lifted a few feet off the ground, and crushed against the wall. "Your krannt, whose crests will be forged into blades, all spoke a very specific and intriguing phrase." The krogan's limbs were stretched outward just enough for his armor and layered skin to tear. He yelped, pitifully and in agony, and she didn't care. "'The Terminus will Rise'. Clarify. As I have done for you, so you shall do for me."

"It's...just talk!", growled the krogan, avoiding the sight of his arms and legs slowly being torn off at their base. "It means nothing! We've been saying stupid shit like that for centuries!"

Sederis slowly rose to her feet and inspected the krogan's arms that were barely hanging by a thread, her white eyes still glowing with calculated fury. "I'm well aware of your incessant boasting and pack mentality, whelp. That is Omega, as it is the Terminus and even the Citadel. All suffer from such weakness. This, however, is ideology.", she stated calmly, dragging her index finger across the krogan's wingspan. "One is baseless, while the other has deep, tangled and enduring roots. It is a weed that cannot simply be burned, for it will only grow back" The asari violently grasped part of the krogan's soft, unarmored throat. "Where are the roots? Who is propagating this suicidal belief? That this community of brooding exiles and pitiful drecks can become more than they are?"

The krogan roared, writhing in blinding agony as his limbs continued to separate from his body. "I HEARD IT FROM THE MAD PROPHET! YOU DIDN'T NEED TO TORTURE ME FOR THIS!"

"As I said, euphoria is a glorious state of mind, and your role in this life is keep me there.", she said as she placed her palm on the side of his armored neck. "Interesting. The batarian, whose outbound frequency is the only one not being jammed? Those are very deep roots." The brutal asari twisted the patch of his throat very slightly and smiled warmly. "Now, in order to truly impart the brutal purity that is Eclipse onto our newest members...", beckoned Sederis, lightly gesturing to the six or so dozen terrified recruits that had been watching the interrogation. "...your death will be spectacular, and we will feel it as one."

Sederis turned her eyes black as night and flashed her teeth. "Embrace the void, or be blinded by the sun.", she whispered, initiating the meld. Her mind was filled with his terror, rage and pain, while his was filled with her exhilaration, violence, and joy. The woman was forcing him to him to experience both sides of his own death, as she did the same.

The brutal asari slammed her jaw down onto the krogan's fleshy throat, gripped the side of his armored neck in a vice, and gnashed her teeth deep into the meat like a feral varren. She jerked her head back and brutally tore out his throat, pouring nerve fluid and blood across her and the recruits. Many vomited, and others ran to certain death. Sederis quickly burdened those that fled with biotically shattered legs, having evolved past the need for physical mnemonics long ago.

Even as life rapidly drained from the krogan, Sederis strengthened the meld, forcing his last moments and thoughts to be of her own design. Tuchanka, bright and green. He had a family now. A mate, a dozen children. He was happy, and his eldest son had been born a biotic. As a father, he could not have been more proud. The krogan had sent her all of his rage, pain and begrudging gratitude for such a vivid memory. Even in death, Sederis was in total control.

As Sederis came out of the joining, her collection of stolen memories growing ever larger, she released the krogan's lifeless body from her hold and it fell to the ground in a heap. She turned around and stared hard at the recruits, crushing the krogan's throat as she balled her hand into a fist. "As all of you can see quite clearly, I, and my organization, will not tolerate mercy, pity or any such weakness we deem detrimental to Eclipse."

She walked through the crowd, the horrified masses giving her a wide berth on instinct alone. "Eclipse is brutality. Eclipse is power, overwhelming and insurmountable. We cannot be ignored, for we will darken the stars themselves simply to terrify those that feed on the light!", bellowed Sederis, her booming voice becoming more passionate with every word.

The brutal asari stopped just before their Ikina District FOB's large, impromptu landing pad, the still burning chaos of the battlefield coming back into view. So far, securing the Ikina district had gone over relatively well. Besides a few holdouts, Eclipse had gained total control of the district, and many of her people were celebrating that as a victory. For children, yes, but not for Sederis. Her prize, and thus theirs, was far grander.

They needed a reminder, lest they weaken.

Sederis turned back to the terrified masses with a harsh glare. She opened up the comm channel she used for organization-wide announcements and gritted her teeth. "Eclipse, today, you have fought valiantly. As a result, many of you are now under the tantalizing misconception that we have won whatever tiny, meaningless trifle of this station, and that it is now our own!", she snarled.

"We have conquered, yes, but we did not win. Our battle today was not a victory. Political power, land, resources, spoils, dominance...these are not our goals, nor true goals in any sense. They are constructs created by those who fear what we can, and will, become! Just as you are powerless to stop the setting of the sun, so too will all be against Eclipse!", roared Sederis, her speech bordering on tyrannical charisma.

The crowd, and everyone on the comm channel, responded with loud, cultist cheering.

Sederis grinned and walked up the loading ramp of her Mantis gunship. She gripped one of the bars attached to the passenger door and leaned out of the craft. "We have no creed, nor allegiance to any sovereign body! Our power blinds them, so that we may live as we see fit! Freedom from any and all who might oppress us! WE ARE A FORCE OF NATURE! GODDESSES AMONG MORTALS!". The brutal asari motioned for the pilot to take off, and not a moment later the A-61 roared to life, its thrusters swatting debris away like paper. "WHO BINDS US?!", she asked, raising her fist into the air as the gunship did the same.

"NONE!"

"WHO OBEYS US!?"

" _NONE!_ ", screamed her people as the Mantis soared far from the crowd.

"WHO FEARS US?!" The brown murky cityscape of Omega was became more and more dull every time she looked at it. The burning buildings and fallen frigates were a beautiful touch, but still it wasn't enough to hold her attention for very long. Still, the mantra needed reinforcement, so she endured.

" _ALL!_ "

"WHO ARE WE?!"

" _ECLIPSE!_ "

Sederis hummed as she closed the channel, content with the progress she'd made in just few short weeks on this station. She'd whipped the entire Omega section of Eclipse back into her state of mind, as, through no fault of his own, Jaroth had imparted his less than absolute sensibilities to her followers. It was not a mistake he'd made lightly, and she'd understood. The death of his brother simply made failure less of an option for him. He had no close family but his dalatrass, now.

The brutal asari opened a link to Jaroth, her white eyes glaring down at the station below with contempt. "Jaroth, get me a location on the Mad Prophet's broadcast center. He's a rallying cry, and we need to neutralize him."

" _I'll get the techs on it, though we've already been trying to figure that out for months. Anything else, ma'am?"_

Sederis opened her hand and stared thoughtfully at her piece of the krogan's throat. "Begin investigating these red vorcha I keep hearing about. The descriptions I've heard are..." The brutal asari tossed the bloody patch of flesh out of the gunship and sealed the doors behind her. "...worrisome."

-(|)-

"NORTH SIDE! CONCENTRATE FIRE!", screamed Shepard as she unloaded the rest of her assault rifle's thermal clip. The heavy, explosive tungsten ammo block sent streams of armor piercing rounds into the eternally advancing vorcha horde. Volley after volley burrowed beneath their flesh and detonating a moment later, splattering limbs and meat in every direction.

"Got it!" Miranda turned, her movements now sluggish, and did the same, slowing down yet another push for the IFV. Her hair was thick with sweat, and the long gashes on her cheek were scabbed three times over. "Zaeed, for God's sake will you just take down that building already?!"

" _You're asking me to make on the fly demolitions calculations with a cannon I've never used before on a blown apart apartment building I've never laid eyes on!",_ rebutted Zaeed. " _WHY DON'T YOU CLIMB DOWN OUT OF MY ASS FOR ONE GUDDAMN SECOND SO I CAN MAKE SURE I DON'T CRUSH US INSTEAD OF PLUGGING UP THESE FUCKING HOLES!?"_

Dr. Ceres, who'd to her credit had actually picked up a rifle and started shooting after escape became complicated, biotically hurled another line of vorcha back into the breach. She fought with such trained efficiency that Shepard was positive she'd been a huntress earlier in life. "Zaeed, just breathe and focus. Miranda clearly doesn't appreciate how delicate a procedure this is."

"Are you kidding? He's trying to shove a rectangle into a round hole!", grumbled Miranda.

Shepard, despite this being a very deadly situation, had to laugh at that. "Zaeed, you ever play with blocks as a kid?", she snickered as she blasted apart a few more vorcha with her salvaged AT-12 Raider, the dual rapid-fire shots of explosive flechette ripping through them like butter.

" _You think you're real clever, don't you?"_

"Yup _._ "

With a moat of red vorcha around them and an IFV that, unlike its younger brother, couldn't jump, their odds of survival had been approximately zero. No clear routes of escape existed, and they were trapped in no man's land. While it was true that they had cover in the form of a parking lot filled with skycars, it didn't amount to anything in the face of the red vorcha. They could just tear through it like it was paper, and they weren't exactly shooting back.

In the midst of the chaos, Zaeed had realized that by blowing up a building just right, he could collapse the debris into the chasm and make a jury-rigged bridge.

" _Okay, got it! Once I hit it, it's gonna be thirty seconds before we can fuck off, so ready up!"_ A synchronized timer popped up on her omni-tool. " _We're on the clock!"_

"Alright, this is it! Everyone pile in, and start praying!" Shepard tensed her jaw and tossed the rest of her grenades into the advancing horde, turning a cluster to meat. "Zaeed, fire!".

" _Guddamn right!"_ The Barracuda's main gun boomed, launching an anti-tank round into the last remaining support beam of a six-story building across the moat. It creaked, shuddered and began to fall completely apart in the direction of the chasm. " _Beautiful shot!_

Twenty-five seconds.

Shepard launching herself into biotic charge toward the IFV. The woman arrived just above the Barracuda's top hatch, kicked it open, fell into the driver's seat and sealed the door behind her. She quickly shoved her shotgun and rifle to the side and disabled the engine safeties. If they were going to make it out of this, she needed to redline it.

Seventeen seconds.

Her eyes flicked toward the internal camera feed, and was relieved to see everyone had made it back inside. "Keep the ramp open and fire on the bastards! They'll chase after us!" Shepard slammed her foot onto the pedal. The Barracuda's six wheels dug into the scarred metal road and roared forward, picking up as much speed as it could.

Ten seconds.

Shepard felt the vehicle roar with speed, as if it was just as desperate to escape as the rest of them. Suddenly, as her head finally grasped the image of that massive building coming down directly in front of her, she realized that this was by far one of the stupidest things she'd ever done.

" _Shepard, you're cutting this a little close!",_ yelled Zaeed over the stream of automatic gunfire coming from the passenger cabin. " _Christ, never mind! These fuckers are stupid fast! Gun it!"_

Six seconds.

"I've got this!", she snapped back, once again eyeing that red button she'd never once gotten to press. Her instructors had told her, time and time again, that the big red button was only to be used in the most dire of emergencies, since it could endanger the lives of everyone on board. Ironically, that carpet bombing she was running from all those years ago was the one day that it didn't work.

Two seconds.

"...fuck you, Anderson." Shepard pressed the button.

Zero.

Just as the building crashed down into the pits, the Barracuda's rear jets screamed to life, giving it a massive burst of speed. It's chassis rattled and shook, as it strained to maintain its stability from the boost. The IFV smashed through the debris, barreling over the makeshift bridge and onward to freedom.

All of them whooped, save for Vasir who hadn't been the most receptive lately, as loud as they possibly could, and Shepard had to refrain from beeping the horn a few thousand times. Relief washed over her, and surely the others as well. Clocking in at 200 kilometers an hour, the rear jets extinguished themselves, and the Barracuda continued to speed away from their potential grave.

" _I just want to point out that all of my plans have worked so far. Y'know, for the record. Collateral damage doesn't seem so guddamn stupid now, does it?",_ chuckled Zaeed.

"Counterpoint.", said Shepard, feeling very playful as she'd just cheated death. "Ignoring you by listening to the radio.". She flipped it on, only to be, once again, greeted by the broadcast of the Mad Prophet. "Oh, for the love of..."

" _There are lines being drawn, brothers and sisters! Legions shall join the free! Exiles of all creeds! Even those who bow to the eyes and ears of the heartless bastions will shatter their bonds and join us in our new, beautiful world! The slow, feeble, young, dying, zealotus, neutered, and cursed peoples will shout in one voice that we are not to be ignored! All are one-"_

"You know what?" Shepard flipped it off and focused on driving. "No radio. Zaeed, let's discuss it when we get back, ok?"

" _Fair enough."_

" _Might I inquire where it is we're going, exactly?",_ asked Rolan.

"...somewhere safe."

-(|)-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The M-080 Barracuda gets rear jets because, ironically, it can't jump.
> 
> Anyone here play Left 4 Dead? Totally unrelated. Probably.
> 
> Sound waves shattering reinforced military polymers? Impossible, I think, but I'm invoking 'Rule of Cool' and 'Chekov's Gun', so now it's legit.
> 
> Jona Sederis was already that crazy, let's be honest. I just...let her off the leash, so to speak. If anyone tells you Eclipse was founded after the Suns, think about that. Isn't that just...weird? PMCs would be around for CENTURIES at this point, especially the good ones.
> 
> Rolan Quarn, ladies and gentleman! For those who don't recall, he was in the Citadel DLC, and had an arc during the Cerberus News Network's run.
> 
> Zealotus is actually a real word. Surprised me, too.
> 
> I am 3 for 3 on sort-of-Mitch Hurwitz/Dan Harmon-level clever chapter titles. If you know who the second guy is: #SixSeasonsandaMovie :)
> 
> Feel free to drop a comment right below in that box. Even if it's scathing hate or like two words, I'd love to read it.


	4. Indeterminate Termination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This one took a while. Just over seven months. Sorry about that! Life got in the way, then other kinds of life, and then a third kind. Hopefully it doesn't happen again.
> 
> The following work was beta'd by BSG-Legacy and MeganD.
> 
> Bioware owns lots of things, etc.
> 
> EDIT 8/28/14: Okay, so I fixed a lot of problems that were brought to my attention in regards to this chapter in relation to the others. Lack of consistency, for the most part, so I altered the plot points and pacing of this chapter pretty significantly. I highly suggest giving this one another read, because if you go forward with the old version in your head, nothing will make sense.
> 
> A big thank you to NarwhalWarlord over on FF.net for pointing out the lack of 'Happy Madness'! I honestly couldn't have described it better myself.

-(|)-

They'd made it back. Shepard wasn't sure how, but she knew they were safe. She sighed and slid down the side of the IFV, resting her head against the massive tires. Her eyes lolled, and she rubbed them to keep herself as awake and alert as she could. She looked up to see the rest of—-who were they to her, exactly? Her friends? Her team? As she made eye contact with Miranda, she decided it didn't matter at the moment.

She gave the group a weary wave. "Hey. This is where I live. It's...uhm..." She furrowed her brow, struggling to focus. "...something that Zaeed can explain."

Zaeed rolled his eyes and lazily described the area around him. "Elevator, armory, shitter, kitchen, couch, beds." He huffed. "Questions?"

"How did you manage to acquire something like this?" said Miranda, sounding slightly impressed as she looked around Shepard's humbly furnished home. "On a mercenary's salary, no less."

"Killed the warlord who owned it," he said. "Fixed it up. Now it's a goddamn bunker. Even got the outer walls reinforced with cruiser armor." Zaeed knocked his knuckles against the wall. "Sure as hell wasn't cheap."

Shepard felt her mind fog up as she started to zone out, only catching bits and pieces of the rest of the conversation. She tried to focus on the matter at hand: getting the spectre off of the station, but the thoughts simply wouldn't come to her.

"...more afraid of getting shot in the head again than my throat slit, bird, but now my eyes are gonna be on you like a goddamn hawk since you brought it up," growled Zaeed.

"I couldn't possibly end the life of a man who cheated death itself. A waste of both of our talents," said Quarn, his oddly smooth dual toned warble resonating throughout the room. Turians weren't typically a people that Shepard considered charming, but clearly the one they'd picked up was an exception. A confusing exception, but one all the same.

"Would like to run tests on-" said Mordin hopefully.

"How many fucking times do I have to say no?!" Zaeed tapped his massive bullet wound. "Off limits, you understand? If I don't let fucking asari in there, so I'm sure as hell not gonna let you do any poking around."

Shepard opened her left eye as she felt someone sit down next to her. Miranda's dark, lustrous hair filled her vision and poked her right in the eye. She rubbed it and blinked a few times. "Watch the hair, Miranda. Either tie it back or get it cut to something sensible," she mumbled.

"Sorry. I just needed to step away from the conversation for a moment. Your friends are..." She cleared her throat. "...very opinionated."

"YES. IT'S A REAL EYE. STOP FUCKING STARING AT IT!" yelled Zaeed, his face red with anger at Ceres.

"I'm just trying to admire the craftsmanship." sighed Ceres, exasperated. "Apparently, siari skipped over you at birth."

"The hell does that even mean?!"

"It means stop talking and show me where I can move the spectre."

Zaeed scowled at the asari doctor and shot his arm down one of the hallways, toward Shepard's room. Without another word, Ceres wheeled the unconscious spectre down the hall and out of sight.

Shepard groaned softly. "Zaeed's more of a business partner than a friend, as much as I hate to admit it. Ceres is just the surgeon who fixes me up every few weeks. If anyone is my friend here, it's Mordin." She frowned. "Probably just out of scientific curiosity, but still. That's just how salarians work, I think," she grumbled.

"What about me?" asked Miranda.

Shepard shot her an unamused sidelong look. "If you have to ask, that answers your question." She closed her eyes again and leaned back against the IFV. "Neither enemy, nor friend. Take it or leave it. Which is pretty good, considering you haven't tried to kill me. Yet." Shepard laughed breathlessly. "That's how Zaeed and I met, and I certainly trust him not to stab me in the back."

Zaeed, who was now unloading the IFV of it's many weapons and body bags full of energy drinks, protein bars, and medical supplies. "Yeah, well, you're better at knives than I am, so it wouldn't do much good, now would it?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Guess not. Toss me a Tupari and one of those energy bars, would you?"

Zaeed scoffed as he dragged the last bag down the ramp. "If it'll get you off of your ass, sure, why the hell not." He ripped open the bag and lobbed a half dozen of each lazily in her direction. "You look like shit, by the way. Smell like it, too."

Miranda screwed up her face. "I wasn't going to say anything, but you smell absolutely horrid."

Shepard frowned as she was pelted with cans and packaged goods. "Thanks for the reminder, you two. Really boosts my confidence," she said with enough sarcasm to drown a krogan. She tore open an energy bar, inhaled it, and then proceeded to guzzle down a can of Tupari. "Zaeed, do me a favor and keep an eye on the bird until we can figure out what to do with him. I need some time to decompress and think." She got back up to her feet, using the IFV for balance.

"Babysit the bird. Alright, fine. Not like I've got anything better to do right now..." he said with a shrug. "Can't exactly work on Jayne, now can I..." he grumbled, sounding pained at the loss of his car. "You're goddamn-" Zaeed was interrupted by a credit chit being whipped at his forehead. He growled and picked it up off the ground.

"Paying for it. I get it. There's your goddamn money, so stop whining about it," snarled Shepard.

Zaeed furrowed his brow at her. "Still doesn't cover the bet."

Shepard roared and haphazardly tossed a dozen credit chits at him in frustration. "There! Okay? Take it! Take all the fucking money! Just watch the goddamn bird!" She turned to the turian, still scowling. "Don't do anything stupid. And Mordin-" She then swung around toward Mordin, who had apparently already set up his equipment and gotten to work without her noticing. "Okay, yeah, keep doing that."

"Progress already being made! Optimistic. Shouldn't take very long to finish! Actual implantation procedure likely problematic, but not currently relevant," said Mordin, apparently unfazed and apathetic of Shepard's sudden outburst.

Miranda rose to her feet and took a step toward Shepard. "Do you need me to do anything?"

Shepard clenched her teeth. "I'm not your boss, Miranda. Do whatever you want, as long as you don't touch or break anything important. Or expensive. Or volatile, or fragile, or big. I don't care."

Miranda cleared her throat. "I suppose I'll see if Doctor Ceres needs any assistance, then."

"Great. Fantastic. Play nurse. I'm going to take a shower," she said as she quickly made her way into the bathroom and sealed the door. She didn't need anymore bullshit or snide retorts right then. She took a moment to clear her head in the relative silence and privacy, but inadvertently ended up getting slammed against the wall by the weight of the clusterfuck that she'd gotten herself into.

The situation, one that was actually of galactic importance rather than just a politician claiming it to be, was not something she had any experience in dealing with. Ground wars, sure. Infiltration, assassination, sabotage, espionage, all with her eyes closed. Shepard was a graduate of ICT, which meant she was trained, and certified, in essentially everything when it came to anything even remotely related to warfare. But a stationwide lockdown degenerating into total anarchy with an infestation of an intelligent swarm of demons coupled with the possibility of triggering a centuries-long intragalactic war was not something she was prepared for.

That was what spectres were for, and Shepard was no spectre.

Shepard grabbed a towel off of the rack and shoved her face into it. She roared as loud as she possibly could into the makeshift muffler, straining her throat as she relieved as much stress as she could without appearing weak in front of those around her. They clearly needed a leader, and since Vasir was out of commission, everyone assumed that she should take on the role. She didn't want the job, not again, not ever, but it was clear that she didn't have a choice in the matter.

She looked up at the mirror, meeting her haggard gaze. "You can do this. You've made the impossible possible before, and you can do it again. As long as you don't lose sight of the big picture, you'll make it through this," she whispered, hoping her tired words would somehow encourage herself.

Shepard sighed softly and ran her fingers through her sticky, slick hair. "Die in blood, or don't at all."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, repeating the mantra several more times under her breath. In all honesty, she had never quite figured out exactly what that phrase meant. She didn't have a clue, actually. But she was almost positive that Jon Grissom had said it, so that was enough.

Still, she felt disgusting and dirty. Her 'borrowed' clothes slithered back and forth on her skin, and she suddenly became aware of how much blood was in her shoes. She took them off to find that the skin on the soles of her feet was almost entirely raw.

"Oh my God," she whispered. Without a second thought, she hopped in the shower and washed herself as thoroughly as possible. After finishing her business, she felt considerably better, but still made sure to inspect herself in the mirror before declaring herself truly clean. Her fingers unconsciously ran across the mark on her sternum, and she felt a surge of guilt and anxiety burn through her.

_"I can be a weapon for you, but I don't want to be a toy. Do you own me?"_

_"If I owned you, you'd know. Get over yourself, Shepard. You don't pay a slave."_

"...but you do buy your toys." She sat down on the toilet and hugged her towel. At this rate, Aria would have no other choice but to force her into slavery to ensure Shepard's protection. It'd be her own fault, too. She needed to stop acting out so much.

This whole clusterfuck was her doing, after all.

-(|)-

"Vido, by all means, please explain to me exactly how you learned that Jona Sederis 'cannot be killed'," grumbled Aria. She glared at the nervous image of the de facto leader of the Blue Suns through the vidcomm. It never ceased to amuse her that her mere presence, even digitally, was powerful.

" _It's hard to explain._ "

"Try."

" _I already did when I said she couldn't be killed_ ," he said, completely serious.

"Try harder."

" _It's like she's immortal, or some sort of Goddess_."

"Yes, she does seem rather attached to that delusion," droned Aria. "Your people have helmet cameras. Show me."

" _Whatever you say. Alright, this is attempt number six. M-98 Widow Anti-material rifle modded with an HE ammo block._ "

The vidcomm was replaced with a recording of a sniper's perspective. The scope was centered on Sederis, who was around six kilometers away and raging about something. The sniper fired straight into the asari's head. Her head snapped backward violently, only for her to shrug it off by cracking her neck. The explosive, anti-material round splattered out across her barrier, killing a dozen other mercenaries that were standing too close. The sniper fired again, to the same result. Then, much to Aria's surprise, Sederis biotically ripped a two story metal beam out of the wreckage and literally threw it at the camera. Then, static.

Aria was silent for a long moment. "I see. Remind me, what are Widows certified to disable, or destroy, in one shot?" she asked chiddingly.

" _Armored vehicles. Krogan. That sort of thing._ "

"Did you try using more of them?"

" _Yes._ "

"And?"

". _..well…_ "

-(|)-

Sederis inhaled the mercenary human's scent, holding her shivering body close by the inside of her armored thighs. "It pleases me that you lack a helmet." The Blue Sun smelled of urine, tears, fear, and the slightest hint of arousal. That wasn't a surprise, as that was just chemistry. Sederis had that with everyone. "Hair is stimulation that is like no other, and I do not wish to be deprived of it."

The woman sobbed uncontrollably and clenched her eyes shut. "Please, take it. Take it and let me go," she begged. "I'll-I'll tell Vido to back off! Okay?! I'll defect and join Eclipse! Please, just let me go. Please."

Sederis hummed wistfully as she biotically sliced her fingers up the human's armored legs, shredding the plating and leaving her groin bare. "Adorable. Naive. Enthralling." She tenderly kissed the back of her head, relishing the soft brush of her brown hair on her lips. "Are your friend's watching?" Sederis gingerly placed her hands on the women's abdomen and sighed, funneling a trickle of dark energy inside of her.

"If they are, they're waiting until I'm dead to fire."

"Oh? That's adorable. Such honor among mercenaries? Unexpected." A spark of blue fire hissed at the bottom of the human's groin plate. "Though, easily corrected. Take solace in the knowledge that your death is not meaningless, as it is a message. " The armor, and flesh, slowly began peeling itself in two. It moved vertically, gradually bisecting her as she screamed.

Sederis loved that part. The moment their mind's shattered and lost countless millennia of cultural evolution. To be reduced to one's most primal, ancient roots of simple blind pain.

"Embrace the void, or be blinded by the sun." Sederis made her eyes go black, and forcibly joined their minds. She submerged the human's mind in a raging river of ecstasy, drowning her consciousness in an endless and infinite climax. It was pleasure for but a moment, but for the rest, it was incomprehensible agony as her body was bisected with surgical proficiency. Sederis shared the sensation, and only amplified it more. The woman wretched a blood curdling scream, unable to breathe, for an eternity within the joining and then finally collapsed in brain death just as her spine was split apart.

Sederis broke the meld, ripped the human in half, bathing herself in the woman's viscera, and savored the new memories she had acquired. They were simple, sweet, and often times violent. The woman's partner was another she had joined with earlier that day, so that was an interesting development.

She was confident that the rest of them would make no moves against her, lest they suffer the same fate.

-(|)-

" _After that, the rest of the them retreated, and now nobody else is willing to even try to take her out. I'd execute them if I wasn't shitting my own pants. Figuratively, I mean."_

Aria was at a loss for words.

"No, you don't." She ended the call.

Except for that.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then tried again. Nothing. She could defeat the red vorcha, most likely. Reigning Omega back under her rule would gather the necessary troops to do so. Controlling Sederis however, let alone planning for or countering, was clearly impossible.

Of course, Sederis ran Eclipse, and which meant Eclipse could be bought.

Aria glanced over at the hologram of Omega. Casualties rose, damages worsened, and the proverbial grave she was in only got deeper. Little red blips formed big ones as bits and pieces of her station went dark. She had lost control. She wanted, no, needed it back.

Removing the lock down would only make things worse. The Hunt had to continue, and succeed. There was no room for denial or pride. She needed help, and Sederis was the only one capable of delivering it.

She opened up a comm channel to Patriarch. "Patriarch-"

Krogan roars and the rather visceral sounds of a brutal, bare knuckled brawl barked out of the speakers, which wasn't exactly what she had expected to hear. Aria was more accustomed to the old krogan kneeling before her in words, albeit begrudgingly. She grew a bemused expression and ended the transmission, quickly calling Bray instead.

Hopefully, there'd be less insanity on his end.

-(|)-

As Bray watched Patriarch being brutally beaten by a pair of Blood Pack krogan, he couldn't help but wonder why exactly Aria thought it was wise to bring that big idiot along for peace talks and cease-fire negotiations. All he ever did was blabber on about former glory, and how everyone is below himself and Aria. One didn't need to have a big ego to want to beat the shit out of the arrogant old idiot. He was just that damn annoying.

"So, that's zero for three, I guess..." mumbled Bray as he struck the Blood Pack off his omni-tool list. "I'm counting us avoiding Eclipse as a failure since Sederis is running around out there, doing whatever it is that she does."

"Eating people," said Gavorn.

"Eating them out, or actually eating them?"

"Both would be my guess."

"Okay. Definitely going to mark us as zero for three, then. Patriarch would've fucked that one up too, anyway," said Bray, typing a few things into his omni-tool.

Gavorn sighed beside him, looking none too pleased with Patriarch's shenanigans himself. "It's going to be the same damn thing every time. We walk in, the krogan does a grand entrance-" Gavorn flaps his arms mockingly. "-and instantly discredits everything we could possibly say."

"Yup. That's Patriarch."

"You'd think after the second time he'd realize that this shit isn't going to work," grumbled Gavorn. "Should we even intervene at this point? I feel like I'd be wasting ammo."

"Hold on, I'll check." Bray cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "Hey, Patriarch! How you doing over there?"

"FIGHTING LIKE A TRUE KROGAN, MY FRIENDS! THEY MAY-" He roared in pain. "CAUSE ME HARM, BUT THEY CANNOT CRUSH MY SPIRIT, NOR MY LEGACY!"

"Okay, good to know! Also, we're not your friends!" He turned back to Gavorn. "Nah. Sounds like he's got it under control."

Gavorn tightened his mandibles down on his cheeks as he continued to watch the display. "If he says so…" He shrugged. "So, who's next?"

"The Batarian Hegemony," replied Bray, sounding very detached.

"...we can probably just skip that one, right?" said Gavorn, with a hint of concern. Bray didn't like being pitied, but he appreciated that Gavorn wasn't a complete and total ass about everything.

"They've got shitty equipment, soldiers, and will probably try to overthrow Aria within an hour of joining the task force alliance thing." He shrugged. "But they're good fodder for slowing the vorcha down for a few seconds, so we might as well try."

"Fair enough. Update Aria and head out, then?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Bray cleared his throat. "Patriarch! We're going to give Aria a sit-rep and then get going, ok?!" he yelled.

All three krogan roared some more.

"That probably means 'Ok'. Call her up."

Gavorn nodded, but before he could call Afterlife, Aria popped up on Bray's omni-tool.

" _Bray, give me an update on your progress. Patriarch seems preoccupied_ ," she said.

"Things are going okay, I guess." Bray scratched the back of his head. "Patriarch is getting beaten up by a bunch of Blood Pack krogan, and nobody wants to help us because the old guy keeps insulting them before we get a chance to speak." He shrugged. "Business as usual."

" _Typical. I assume negotiations with Eclipse were an utter failure?_ "

Gavorn cleared his throat. "The hit you ordered on their leader sent a very strong signal, ma'am. Didn't seem like a good idea to walk into their base and ask for help after that."

" _If you think someone like Sederis will take a bounty on her head personally, you're a fool. She has hundreds, if not thousands, already. Vido was just one of the few stupid enough to actually attempt it._ "

"I thought about that, but I still suggested we should just skip over them. I didn't feel like getting eaten out today," said Bray.

Gavorn elbowed him in the stomach. "Eaten. You didn't feel like getting eaten, you idiot."

" _I'm going to assume that was a translator error, and that the both of you actually said that you were on your way there at this very moment,_ " Aria said, scowling.

"Whatever you say, ma'am," said Bray. He had always had an amazing knack for hiding his apathy behind his guttural voice.

" _Good. Hire Sederis personally, along with her best. I want this infestation purged as soon as possible. Cost is no object. Understood?_ "

"Yup. What should we do with Patriarch?"

" _His purpose was to be an example of what happens to those who get in my way. Since no one seems to care about that anymore, I'll leave that decision to you two. Remember, I honestly don't care what the outcome is. Just get Sederis._ "

The call ended and Aria's tried expression vanished from Bray's omni-tool. He looked over to Gavorn and then back to the Blood Pack krogan. "Hey! We're gonna go take care of some other business. Do us a favor and leave him alive, okay?"

One of the krogan snarled into Bray's four eyes. "Why the fuck should we do that?"

"Because regenerating is way more painful than death."

The krogan considered it for a moment, and then nodded. "Good point. What about-"

Bray waved him off. "Don't worry about the body. We'll be back later to pick him up." He opened his omni-tool again and set a waypoint for the Eclipse headquarters. He motioned to Gavorn, and with that they were off to their destination.

"How long until we get there?" asked Gavorn.

"Should be a little over an hour, provided we're not eaten or killed on our way there. I'm assuming negotiations will take a few hours, and that we'll most likely have to fight off a horde of something, so we should be back just as Patriarch is healed up enough to walk."

Gavorn snickered. "You are one evil bastard, you know that?"

"Yup."

-(|)-

It hadn't taken Doctor Inaara Ceres long to get the unconscious spectre situated in Shepard's surprisingly humble room. With the exception of a workbench, scrap paper, pencils and a half-dead plant under a UV lamp, it was entirely bare. Inaara couldn't even find a closet, so where her clothes were remained a mystery.

The spectre was lying on the bed, thankfully still breathing steadily. Her heart rate was fine, and she couldn't find any traces of internal bleeding or popped sutures from their recent turbulent escape. Inaara patted herself on the back on a job well done. A lesser surgeon would have probably killed her by now, but Inaara was anything but ordinary.

She carefully unwrapped the spectre's bandaged head and threw the gauze in a nearby trash can. There it was. The unmistakable face of Tela Vasir, one of the Citadel's finest. She snapped several dozen pictures with her omni-tool and a thirty second vid recording of the asari. Then, thinking ahead, backed up the new data to a few spare OSDs along with a modified credit chit. Orders were orders, after all. Inaara had come too far to slack off in the face of adversity. Vasir needed to live, plain and simple.

"You should wake up soon. I'm sick of people walking in and catching me talk to patients who can't exactly carry on a conversation. They think it's unsightly, or morally wrong, but how is it any different than talking to say..." she points to Shepard's half-dead plant. "...that plant? Carbon dioxide helps it grow, and we spew it out when we talk. So as long as you're vegetative, I couldn't possibly care less of what you have to say. Because you're a plant. You have roots in the bed and...suddenly I'm tired of this metaphor." She scoffed and cupped the spectre's face. "But you are a plant. A plant growing exactly as she should be."

"Taking pictures, I see," said the voice of that infuriatingly inept human nurse assassin. She sounded like a child catching her sister stealing an extra helping of dessert. "I believe the goal was to hide all traces of-"

"Aria already broadcasted her face across Omega." Inaara spun around to face Miranda, a large scowl planted firmly on her face. "These are for me. I get extremely turned on by cadavers, or things remarkably close to that. That's my fetish. Before you ask, no I'm not going to sexually assault a spectre, nor have I ever done so to anyone or anything dead or otherwise. It's a  _fetish_ , not a moral perversion. Satisfied?"

The human blinked and cleared her throat. "Ah. Well, I'll just let you get back to work, then." She blushed bright red and spun on her heel, quickly leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Inaara rolled her eyes and rewrapped the spectre's head in gauze. Humans; gullible as they come.

-(|)-

Miranda was a rather open minded woman. She had always claimed to be, and there were few times in her life that she could remember where she faltered in that regard and was far too judgmental. However, just because someone was open minded, didn't make it any less difficult to not become uncomfortable with the idea of an asari masturbating to pictures of dead people.

As she walked, or rather retreated, from the asari doctor and her patient, who couldn't be a more perfect definition of an HVI, she couldn't help but notice that her armor's powered endoskeleton wasn't functioning properly. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to walk and maintain her balance. "Fantastic." Groaning, she half-waddled back into the common room, looking none too pleased. She pretended not to notice Mordin's smirk. "Do you have any experience in safely removing damaged, sealed powered combat armor?"

"No. Never had that problem. Equipment always worked perfectly. Excellent support team. Trusted them more than my own hands, at times. Few times. Rather rare, but still did."

That piqued her interest. She didn't know the doctor's service history, but his comments certainly pointed to something a bit more notable than normal. "Oh? Do tell. I've yet to hear many war stories from salarians."

"No."

That was it. No change in tone. No hesitation. Just a big flat no.

"Please?"

"Some other time, maybe."

"You're just saying that so I'll stop asking, aren't you?" she asked, crossing her arms as best she could, which turned out to be not very well. It looked like she was holding a barrel.

"Yes. Lots of work to do, no time to do it. Important!"

"Oh, in that case, do you need any-" She bit her tongue as soon as she saw what was scrolling through one of his many displays. Classified Alliance documentation regarding L2 biotic implants, failures, schematics and all. "...where did you find this information? The station is under a communications blackout, and half of those pages have security clearance tags."

"Do they?" hummed Mordin. "Hadn't noticed. Regardless, easy to acquire information. Simple extranet search. Downloaded relevant data for project to local terminal. Didn't need much."

"Why did you need all of this? Neither of us are certainly meant to see it."

"None of your concern," he said, waving her off as he continued to work fervently.

"Doctor-"

"-Patient confidentiality, exactly! Glad to know that you respect the concept, Lawson. Don't mean to be rude, but have lots of work to do, very little time to do it! Life and death, no exaggeration!" he said, far more quickly and aggressively than Miranda was prepared for.

"Miranda, stop bothering Mordin! He's doing science and it's of the utmost importance that nothing distracts him!" yelled Shepard from within the sealed bathroom.

"Thank you, Karen."

"Yeah, well, thank me by finishing. Faster. Faster would be better."

That was the second time that day Miranda had been shut out by doctors. Perhaps it was something in her bedside manner, or rather the one she incited in them. Whatever the case, she decided that the salarian couldn't do that much harm with obsolete schematics of a defunct piece of tech. She looked over to the bathroom and decided that Shepard would most likely have experience in her current predicament. "I apologize for the intrusion." Miranda managed to waddle to the locked door. "Shepard? Do you have a moment?"

"Yeah, sure, I've got nothing else going on. I'm just sitting on my hands here until someone asks me to do something because I'm a goddamn idiot and don't understand the gravity of this situation  _what kind of fucking question is that?! Are you blind, deaf and dumb?! Is it 1865?!_ " She groaned. Loudly. "What the hell is wrong with you? Learn to pay attention or I swear to God, I'm kicking you out."

Miranda flattened her lips into a thin line. That escalated quickly. "...I didn't meant to offend. I just need a little help getting out of my armor. The powered endoskeleton is seizing up, and it's limiting my movement. The damage seems to be the most severe around the pelvis, so walking is no easy task," she said, attempting to sound as calm as possible.

"Oh my God, Miranda." Shepard laughed. "You, by far, have the single worst timing for flirting out of anyone I've ever met."

Miranda sighed softly. She was not at her best today, it seemed. "That wasn't my intention, I assure you."

"Intentions don't mean much when your actions mean something else over and over again, Miranda," lectured Shepard. "You check me out in the elevator at the clinic, when I'm hopped up on painkillers, you give me a once over every thirty seconds when we're in the same room, and now you're asking me to help you with issues regarding your pelvis." The bathroom door slid open to reveal a clean and freshly clothed Shepard with one eyebrow crooked. "Do you actually want my help, or...?"

Miranda nodded, and did her best to appear professional, which was difficult considering her arms were still stuck in front of her. "I'd rather not melt it from the inside with biotics. I don't have a spare set."

Shepard took a step out of the bathroom and examined her very clinically. Still, Miranda wasn't entirely sure if all of the attention on her butt was because of the armor plating, or Shepard's own desires. In either case, as long as she could move on her own terms again, she didn't care. "Yeah, I can probably fix this. Walk on over to the armory and have a look around. I need to have a chat with Mordin."

Miranda nodded and tried to turn around toward the armory, only for her to fall flat on her face. She cursed as she found she couldn't move at all. Not one bit. She scowled as she heard Shepard hold back laughter. "This isn't funny! It's a serious problem!"

"Oh, absolutely."

"Damnit, Shepard!"

"Okay, hold on, I'll just..." Shepard bent down, snickering as she did so. "You look so helpless, it's adorable." As if she were lifting nothing at all, Shepard hoisted Miranda's frozen form over her shoulder and marched over to the Armory. She plopped her down onto a workbench and patted her scarred cheek. "Okay, stay right here and I'll be back soon." With that, Shepard left the Armory and sealed the door behind her.

Miranda, being unable to move, simply frowned. For the first time in a very long time, she felt like she didn't belong. It was not a good feeling

-(|)-

" _...all will become one, my brethren! It will become as was foretold in the ancient spires of supremacy. Perfection! Assimilation! When the ensared and liberated are broken, fallen to their knees, the glorious light will descend upon us all with power omniscient!_ " barked the mad prophet, his increasingly annoying voice bellowing out of every other speaker on the path to the Eclipse headquarters.

The temporary F.O.B. looked anything but. Mortar fire created a makeshift moat filled with...something acidic. Gun turrets lined the entire permitted, and missile batteries covered every possible line of sight on the airfield. It was nothing short of amazing that they had enough of a flat surface to even maintain an airfield, let alone possess the necessary aircraft to call it one. One thing was for sure, Eclipse was not lacking in terms of firepower.

And yet, the front door of the complex was almost entirely blown apart by a combination of massive claw marks, krogan-sized dents, partially melted metal and old fashioned, run-of-the-mill explosives. The Eclipse logo was, however, pristine, above them, complete with bright neon lighting.

Bray wondered how many extras of those they had in storage.

Bray sighed as they approached the structure, starting up at the speakers. "I'm starting to get real tired of that idiot's ranting." Their journey across the station was relatively uneventful. Thankfully, with all of the chaos exploding around them, no one seemed to notice the pair slipping in and out of make-shift barricades and fortifications. Bray considered that they were far more focused on the Red Vorcha to care about them, which was probably the smart decision.

Gavorn walked up to the front door and clicked on the intercom. "I don't like him, either. He called me a blight."

"He calls everyone that."

_"Hello, and welcome to the Omega Subsidiary of Eclipse Private Security! If you are in seek of refuge, please leave the premises immoderately or we will use lethal force," clicked the oddly upbeat intercom. The large gathering of turrets simultaneously snapped their barrels to the pair. "If you have other business, such as tribute and business transactions, we ask that you explain your presence and intent, or we will use lethal force. You have thirty seconds to comply."_

Bray rolled all four of his eyes. "Aria sent us to hire Sederis."

" _Oh did she now?_ " cooed the intercom, the soothing voice transforming into something far more menacing. " _Did she bring me a housewarming gift?_ "

Gavorn raised a browplate and clutched his rifle tighter. "Uh, no, ma'am. We weren't aware this base was new, strictly speaking."

" _Your logic is flawless, turian. Be that as it may, it's still extremely rude to enter someone's home without a gift, you realize. Especially when you're a guest. Not even the queen herself can retain her manners in times of strife. Pitiful._ "

Bray cleared his throat. "May we come in?"

" _You may enter. I'm on the bottom floor. I'm entrusting you two, as messengers from the monarchy, not to disturb the serfs...plebians...servants? Words are tiring. Joining is a far easier form of communication._ "

Bray motioned for Gavorn to follow him and the duo entered through the doors. The base wasn't anything special to the untrained eye. Just lots and lots of Eclipse soldiers scurrying around, running drills and moving equipment. Bray, however, had four good eyes, and he saw quite a bit more. Sederis was preparing for a much larger war than was necessary on Omega. Half of the explosives looked to have chemical warhead markings, and were clearly Hierarchy property. Gunships that were outfitted with cluster bombs and bunker busters. Most alarmingly were the dozens and dozens of crates of something labeled 'X3'.

Bray shook his head as he headed over to the only elevator in the open aired complex. "Fifteen credits those boxes are filled with Minagen X3." He slapped the 'down' button on the haptic interface.

Gavorn shrugged. "They're not even trying to hide it, so why bother? We should make it more interesting." He hummed and took another look at the growing stockpile. "Okay, one hundred credits that Sederis has her hands on something nuclear."

Bray actually laughed. "Done and done. I've seen some expert smuggling in my day..." They walked into the elevator. "...but I've never heard of anyone pulling off the big one. Bringing in something that huge without raising a few thousand radiological alerts? Impossible."

The elevator doors closed around them and Gavorn keyed the interface to take them to the bottom floor. Apparently it was labeled as 'Subbasement 7', whatever that meant. "Nothing is impossible. I think the Red Vorcha are a good example of that."

"They don't count."

"In what way do they not count?!"

"Because they're very clearly real, obviously."

Gavorn grunted, opened his mouth, closed it, and then just sighed. "You are impossible sometimes, you know that?"

"Yup."

The elevator doors opened to reveal a confusingly exotic office. 'Trophies' and portraits lined the walls, all of them clearly taken from other bases and leaders that had nothing to do with Sederis or Eclipse. Even so, there were hints of asari architecture, Bray could tell. The entire room felt like it curved inward, toward the back, or rather the focal point of the space.

A very neat and tidy desk with a chair turned away from them.

Gavorn groaned and walked over to the desk. "What is this, a bad action vid? Ma'am, we're trying to conduct business-" The chair spun around to reveal an extremely dead asari. Her eyes were stark white and a deep cauterized blade wound adorned her forehead. "...spirits."

Bray widened his eyes a little. "Huh. Guess she's dead."

"As if a blade could harm me," laughed a disembodied voice. The powerful figure of Jona Sederis, armored as usual, flickered into existence atop her desk. She was sitting atop it in a taunting manner, one leg crossed over the other. "Do you have any idea how many shots to the head I've taken? If a massively accelerate grain of sand couldn't overpower me, then how could something so primitive best me in combat?"

Bray shrugged. "If it moved slow enough, your barriers wouldn't react to it. Someone would need one really lucky shot to pull it off, though."

Sederis stared Bray down for a long moment. "...you're not as moronic as-no, wait," she put her finger to her chin and then pointed to Gavorn. "You were the imbecile, not him. Forgive me, I always mistake one of you for the other!"

Bray and Gavorn looked between one another. Gavorn looked far more baffled. "How?" they said in unison.

"Your existence isn't exactly what you would call relevant to me. Yet!" She snapped her fingers.

Four completely armored Eclipse commandos materialized in the elevator behind them, all armed to the teeth with weaponry designed to take down a squad of krogan. They approached Bray and Gavorn at their flanks, two drawing long monomolecular blades and the other leveling their rifles at the duo's heads.

Sederis grinned. "Prove your relevance and I'll allow you to live." She walked over to Bray and Gavorn and patted them both on the cheek. "So. You came to talk business, correct? Let's talk business."

-(|)-

Zaeed's least favorite job, out of the several hundreds he'd had, was without a doubt babysitting. Especially when the person he was babysitting was a really weird bird without any facepaint. Apparently, that meant he wasn't to be trusted and always lied. Thankfully, the solution to both of those interpersonal issues was the same.

A shotgun to the face. Well, the threat of one, at least.

Zaeed sat across from the barefaced turian, staring him down with a M-22 Wraith on his lap. He loudly munched on a bag of chips as he glared at the bird, trying to communicate just how bored he was at that very moment. "Why are you here again?" he asked, not even trying to sound interested.

"If I recall correctly, it was because no one bothered to kill me," the bird replied with a damn creepy smile and tone. It was as if he was charming, but of course that wasn't possible. He was a bird. Birds weren't charming. They had sticks up their asses and nuked shit for fun. "Or perhaps Karen-"

Zaeed tapped his shotgun. "Pretty goddamn sure that she'd resent you for calling her that. For you, she's got two names, but you're only allowed to use one of 'em without getting your skull caved in."

"And what name would that be?"

"Shepard, dumbass. What the hell else would it be?"

"A military rank, most likely," he said, mandibles fluttering. Or something. Zaeed had no idea how to describe the weird things turians did with their faces. "Leadership appears to come naturally to her. She performs the role exceptionally well."

Zaeed shoved a handful of chips into his mouth and glared at the bird. "Uh huh. Sure. How the fuck would you know, bird? You just met her a few hours ago."

Quarn tilted his head. "We're not dead yet. That's proof enough."

Zaeed chuckled. "Yeah. We're not dead yet," he clarified, gesturing between everyone except the bird. "We don't have any dextro food in here, so you'll probably end up with a shotgun sized hole in your head, or starve to death. Just so you know."

Quarn seemed to stiffen at that. "I'll admit, that's really not the best situation for me. But, I'm sure we can work something out."

"Nah," he said, shoving more food he knew was inedible to the turian in his mouth. Stupid bird. "We probably won't. I'm not risking my goddamn neck for a barefaced bird who was dumb enough to surrender. You're basically a P.O.W."

"What if I proved my worth to your team?" he said, mandibles pulling back in what Zaeed was almost positive was a grin. "Surely you have need of an individual such as myself."

"Oh yeah? What can you do that's so special?"

"Sleight of hand. Hiding in plain sight. Impersonating important individuals. Intelligence gathering." Quarn clasped his talons together. "For example: Where did your bag of chips go?"

Zaeed scoffed at that, only to find a moment later that his snack had indeed vanished from his hands. "What the…" He looked up to see Quarn holding the bag teasingly. "How the fuck did you do that?!" He barked as he ripped it out of the bird's hands.

Quarn laughed. "The same way I borrowed your weapon, actually." Just like that, the Wraith was in his lap. Loaded and ready to fire. "Go ahead. Take it back. I'm not much a fan of guns. This was purely for demonstration purposes."

Zaeed scowled at the bird and quickly retrieved his gun before he could change his completely uncharacteristic opinion of guns to something more sensible. Like being a real turian and liking them, instead of a weird one and not liking them. "Do that again and I'm blowing your knees off with this thing."

Quarn grinned. "I wouldn't dream of it."

-(|)-

Shepard emerged from the Armory and confirmed that the door was indeed sealed. There was something about Miranda that felt just off to her, though that might have been all the constant flirting messing with her libido combined with the rather sickening amount of drugs she'd ingested in the past thirty hours. Had it been that long? Shepard crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose. She'd honestly lost track of the time. She massaged her temples as she walked over to Mordin's makeshift workstation and slumped down onto a chair with a sigh.

"Do that again and I'm blowing your knees off with this thing," growled Zaeed, gripping his shotgun in a vice as he glared at their turian prisoner. P.O.W. Person. At the moment, he defied classification in Shepard's eyes.

In turn, the turian responded with a grin that was oddly charming. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said, his tone smooth and very out of place. Quarn's demeanor didn't exactly make Shepard uncomfortable or wary of him, but it certainly wasn't normal for a turian to act in the way that he was. It was different, very different, but she had yet to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Shepard frowned and leaned forward, locking her gaze on Zaeed's scarred eye. "Zaeed. Why are you threatening the bird?" she asked, sounding more tired than she wanted to let on.

Zaeed grumbled something violent and gestured angrily toward the bird. "He's a fucking wizard, that's why! Managed to grab my gun and my chips right outta my hands without me noticing!"

Quarn shrugged. "I was attempting to prove my worth so that I may join your team."

Shepard pinched her forehead. She thought she was past this. Done with it. Leadership. Responsibility. Clearly, the galaxy wasn't finished with her yet, because for some reason beyond her comprehension people were still flocking to her. "Look, bird, I don't have a team. We aren't a team. Zaeed and I are business partners, but that's as far as it goes. I'm not some stupid, strung up propaganda puppet for you to rally behind for the sake of unity. We're all in a bad situation, wrong place, wrong time, and the wrong people. Until the spectre wakes up, you two are going to play nice.  _My ideal afternoon isn't mopping up a dextro-levo blood cocktail!_  Understood?" Shepard realized she was glowering, and nearly yelling, as the pit of her stomach clenched with rage. She took a deep breath and centered herself. It had been a long day, possibly more. That's all it was. Nothing to worry about.

Zaeed grumbled and slung his shotgun around his back. "Yeah. Fine. Whatever."

Quarn only nodded. Either he was planning something, or he'd listen to her. At the moment, Shepard just didn't care. She turned her head toward Mordin, who was still pattering away on tech that was totally incomprehensible. Which was good, she supposed.

Mordin was hunched over his equipment, fervently typing things into the haptic interface she couldn't possibly fathom. The soft blue of the holo washed over the many pieces of jury rigged matte grey tech piled on the table. "...no, no, no, too much glial tissue. Results in nerve scarring, total implant rejection...maybe if...hm, no, neuropozyne develops dependency. Expensive, debilitating addiction not desired effect...need to replicate L3n PEDOT-cluster interface, smaller scale, only necessary components..." he muttered.

"How's it coming along, Mordin?"

"Excellent progress! Already ran through several hundred lethal implantation procedures! Correct design and approach should be obvious soon." He blinked. "Rather impressed with myself. Working with foreign nervous system and reverse engineering obsolete interface protocols while simultaneously-ah, nevermind. Getting ahead of myself." He waved her off. "Go. Eat. Sleep. Excessive stress-"

"Let me guess," she said with a small sigh. "It only makes my condition accelerate faster?"

"What? No. Simply unhealthy in general terms. Also, lack of chemical energy will kill you if you continue to take...'painkillers'." He frowned. "Never should have given you those. Dangerous. Not clinically tested!"

Shepard shrugged and rested her elbows on her knees. "Too late to go back now, Mordin. Got any more advice for me?"

Mordin actually stopped working to stare directly into her grey blue eyes. Shepard froze, baffled. "Go. Eat. Sleep. Relieve stress. Now." With that he went back to work as if nothing extremely odd or frightening had happened a moment ago.

Shepard swallowed and stood from her seat. She nodded and filled a bag with a portion of her tupari and energy bar bounty. Since she couldn't exactly go take a nap in her room, or really get any privacy, she decided to get Miranda's problem over with. Hopefully, working with her hands would relieve some of the tension she was feeling.

-(|)-

Despite being stuck in the Armory, Miranda couldn't help but be impressed by the armaments Shepard had managed to acquire It was equipped with enough firepower to equip a small army, or a team of insane commandos. Every variety of explosives, heavy weapons, and small arms filled the dozens of shelves and cabinets. Most of it looked salvaged and worn, and she doubted that they had the ammunition to use even half. There were also few cases of armor, and even an old ICT foot locker, the trademark logo barely visible from wear and tear.

There were even a few rudimentary exoskeletons hanging from hooks on the ceiling, all equipped with a plethora of micro-explosives, blades, cut down pistols and sub-machine guns, shock collars, and some odd form of wiring Miranda didn't recognize. Crude, but effective, she supposed.

It wasn't long before Shepard emerged from the shutter doors, carrying a small bag, leaving them open this time. "Okay. Let's get started. Do you have any idea how this suit of yours works?" She walked over to it to inspect it more closely. "Its design is similar to one I've come across before, but I could never get it running. Proprietary firmware, or something. Might've been a power-pack optimization issue, actually..."

Miranda tried to shrug. "Honestly, I couldn't tell you. I can't even perform a diagnostic on it."

Shepard smirked, plugged a small terminal into one of her armor's access ports and typed in a few commands. "Well, that's step one. Two through fifty-thousand are a bit more difficult, even if the last forty-thousand involve lots of alcohol and property damage."

"Hm. You don't seem the engineering type, Shepard."

Shepard shrugged and leaned against the workbench. "Necessity is the mother of invention. Truth be told, I'm really not the type, but Omega forces you to be smarter, faster, and more effective than you are. Either that, or die." She pointed up to the exoskeleton-harness thing hanging from the ceiling. "Which is how I made that thing. Virtually imperceptible to the naked eye, and loaded with enough firepower to hold my ground or escape, depending on the situation. Also helps with bounty hunting."

Miranda hummed, impressed. "I suppose that makes sense." She was silent for a moment. "I'm sort of glad I got stuck with you in here, Shepard. No one else seems to want me around. It's...jarring."

Shepard raised a brow. "Is that so? Did you try talking to Zaeed?"

From across the bunker, Zaeed roared. "SHEPARD! THE GODDAMN BIRD IS STILL A FUCKING WIZARD! HE KEEPS STEALING MY STUFF! LITTLE HARD TO STOP HIM IF YOU WON'T LET ME BLOW HIS KNEES OFF!"

"THEN JUST TIE HIM UP, PUT A SHOCK COLLAR ON HIM AND LOCK HIM IN THE IFV!" Shepard screamed back.

After a few moments, Miranda heard the IFV's ramp seal shut. "He seems preoccupied."

"I'M TAKING A FUCKING NAP! NOBODY WAKE ME UNLESS YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO!"

"OF COURSE, YOUR HIGHNESS!"

"FUCK OFF, SHEPARD!"

Shepard shook her head. "Preoccupied. I wish that were the case. He lost Jayne yesterday, so he's got basically nothing to do but mope at this point."

Miranda frowned and suddenly felt terrible. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I had no idea. Who was she to him, if you don't mind me asking."

Shepard snickered as she eyed the terminal. "His car."

"Is that a local euphemism? I'm not familiar with it."

Shepard shook her head with a grin. "No, no, he named his car Jayne. That's it."

"Ah."

"Yeah." The terminal beeped and Shepard scanned the data. "Okay, this one is simple. The hydraulics or...something, I don't actually know how these power suits work, but whatever, there's a thing in your pelvic region that needs to be reset manually." She grabbed a toolbox and began looking through it. "So, while I work, tell me about yourself! Namely…" She turned to glare straight into Miranda's eyes with so much intensity that it nearly startled her. "If you're with the Alliance." She brandished an angle grinder in a very threatening manner. "Think very carefully before you answer. Remember, that armor you're wearing doesn't protect your face."

Miranda was certain she wouldn't feel any safer even if she still had her helmet. She needed to play this just right, or everything would fall completely apart even more than it already had. She couldn't afford to instigate any negativity between herself and Shepard. Not yet. Failure was not an option.

Not that was anything new, of course.

"At one point. Biotics training would be next to impossible without them."

Shepard nodded. "Ok. Fine." She began doing whatever it was that she was doing to her armor, moving the deadly power tool out of range of Miranda's throat. "Do you actually know me, or were you bluffing for some weird reason?"

"Not a lot. Mostly that you, as I was informed, were very much dead."

"How much?"

"Everything the Alliance blasted on ANN over the past decade, so you were a little hard to miss. And they said you were dead, which again is obviously not the case," she said, studying exactly how quickly Shepard was adapting to working with foreign technology. She switched out tools in an instinctive manner. After all, this was the woman best known for her ability to improvise.

"No, I meant how dead. That's the weird part, not the other stuff. Anyone with half a brain and extranet access could figure out the rest."

"Oh. Completely? I wasn't aware there were different levels of dead. It's not exactly common knowledge, though." That was it. Lead her toward the right truth. The one she'd always suspected, but was never able to confirm.

Shepard snorted. "Obviously. I'd like to think that I'd know if I was dead." She shrugged. "If I'm a ghost, I did my job right. Until recently, I was enjoying my life of relative anonymity."

"Considering how much they buried your existence, even going so far as splitting up your accolades to those who'd served and died beside you, that shouldn't be too much of a problem. Provided we're able to survive this ordeal, of course."

Then, Shepard laughed. It was very dry and utterly humorless. The right truth. "They would do that, wouldn't they? Clever, clever, clever. Ooh, and technically true! If I wasn't literally dying already, I'd die of irony."

"You're dying?"

"What? No, of course not! Who said I was?"

"You did, just now."

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did. I just heard you."

"Are you calling me a liar in my own home?"

"Oh! No, no, I would never-"

"Good. Because it sounds like you were doing that, so I'm relieved to hear that you're not. Let's move on; we'll continue this conversation never." Shepard reached into her bag, inhaled several energy bars and downed an entire container of Tupari in record breaking time. It was both disgusting and mesmerizing.

Miranda nodded and made a mental note to follow up on this fact at a later date. It was unexpected, and could potentially cause the downfall of them all. Shepard wasn't historically one to jeopardize the fate of the mission due to her own personal state, but then, she wasn't the woman she once was. She wasn't Commander Shepard any longer. Yet, if they were to survive this, she would have to be once more. If only temporarily.

"Moving on, then. What do you think our next move should be, Commander?"

Shepard curled her lips into a snarl as she pulled a knife out of nowhere to Miranda's jugular. "I do not wear tags. I am not a Marine. Do not call me that again. Ever." Shepard sheathed her blade and continued on her work.

Miranda cleared her throat. She felt her arms unlock. She should have known better than to try something so blatant. Still, logically, if it was a role she'd played for the majority of her adult life, it should have been one that she could easily slip back into with only the slightest of nudges in the right direction. "I apologize. I didn't mean to offend." She'd expected resistance, but not to this degree.

"I don't care, Lawson-"

"Miranda is fine," she interjected. First name basis. Familiarity fostered a stronger bond. Trust.

"Fine. Miranda. I have no idea what we're supposed to do next, because it's not my goddamn job to know that. Know what is? Keeping myself alive and healthy." She shoved another energy bar in her mouth. "By eating," she said, slipping in a few oddly non-descript pills between chews. "And taking my meds. I'm willing to forgive your little mistake there if you, not to be old fashioned, break bread with me. Or don't and go back to 'helping' Doctor Ceres with no motor functions." Shepard tossed Miranda one of her snacks from the large pile beside her.

Miranda caught it, unwrapped it, and took a bite. She crooked her lips to the side. "I doubt she'd accept my help if I even offered." That asari was not overly fond of her. Breaking bread seemed a far better option, even if it was old fashioned. Incredibly, actually. Biblical, even. "Even for a biotic, you eat a rather excessive amount, Shepard," remarked Miranda, honestly more curious than she'd meant to be.

"Doctor's orders.", she said with a shrug. "Triple my daily caloric intake or things get very bad, very fast." Shepard ate more. And more. It was getting ridiculous.

Miranda raised her brows slightly. "Oh." She looked at Shepard's abdomen, and then at the snoring man on the couch. "I hadn't thought...well, regardless, congratulations", she said with a half-genuine smile. Everything had just become impossibly more complicated. Miranda held very few things sacred, and not even the pisshole that was Omega could strip them from her. "When are you due?"

Shepard paused a moment, looking at her like she'd just ousted herself as a witch. "...not sure, but soon. Doctor Solus said he needed time to figure the safest method of delivery."

Miranda shook her head, confused. "That can't be right. There's no way you're more than a month along." She hated that. Only a month. If only she'd gotten here earlier...

"Honestly, I have no idea how far along I am…" she lamented. "Or how long this has been going on. It's not something I'm comfortable talking about," Shepard frowned, staring directly at her. "I'm also very surprised you even know about this. I suppose Mordin doesn't hold doctor-patient confidentiality as highly as I'd thought."

"It's no more than a month, I swear." Miranda chuckled. Ease the tension. This was a good thing, not a cruel twist of fate that no one ever needed to know about. "No, don't worry, he didn't say a word. I haven't spoken to him much at all, honestly. Though, of the few times I did, he went out his way to remind me that I shouldn't be asking about patients. He seems of the trustworthy sort.", she said comfortingly, unconsciously covering her stomach with her hands. "...and it's not the most difficult thing to figure out, you know. I've read a few studies about human biotic parentage-"

"Wha-" Shepard choked on her snack and coughed violently, her eyes wide in shock. She swallowed, forcing her food down the correct pipe. "Do you think I'm pregnant!?" she spat.

"...aren't you?" irked Miranda, smiling nervously. "With twins? You're...eating for three…" She gestured meekly to the sandwich with her head. She'd made another mistake, but anyone could have made this one! This one wasn't her fault. It was simply a misunderstanding.

"Do you see fat on me?" she snarled, glaring at Miranda as she roughly outlined her body with an open palm. "Anywhere?! No, I'm not fucking pregnant!"

"I apologize. I made an assumption." Miranda blushed bright red, outwardly embarrassed but internally overjoyed. "If that's not the case, then why are you eating so much?"

"None of your goddamn business is why," growled Shepard, her pupils dilating. She bit her bottom lip as she stared far too long into Miranda's eyes. "In fact, stop talking." The woman's blue-grey eyes lowered down to the fresh scars on her cheek. She moved into Miranda's personal space and brushed her thumb against it. "I swear to God if you check me out one more time without out actually delivering on all this fucking flirting and teasing you've been doing, I'm throwing you out on the street." Shepard flipped a switch on the wall, closing the armory from the inside. "You want me. I'm stressed out of my fucking mind and, honestly, I'm not too against the idea." She brought her lips dangerously close to her ear. "So either  _fuck me, or fuck off_."

Her armor unlocked. Shepard had fixed it.

Miranda froze for a moment. She hadn't intended on this eventuality. Not even remotely. It was true that she was keeping a close eye on Shepard, and that she'd been using flirtatious comments in order to make things more casual and natural between them, but that was all to get closer to her. Not physically, just in terms of trust. Of course, it seemed obvious how all of that could be misinterpreted now. Refusing could result in failure of her mission, so she couldn't, even if she didn't feel any sense of attraction toward the other women. At least none that she was willing to admit.

Miranda crushed her lips against Shepard's, pulling in by her hair, and not a second later did she feel Shepard violently throw herself into her. She cleared off the workbench and began methodically stripping her out of her armor. She peeled her out of her undersuit, leaving her perfect form bare on the cold metal platform. Before she could even react, Shepard's mouth was between her thighs with such fervor and sexual aggression that Miranda was worried she might literally have trouble walking-

Miranda blinked. She couldn't feel anything. That wasn't right. Not right at all. She looked down at the woman between her legs, who had been so overwhelmingly eager just moments ago. Shepard wasn't moving. Miranda began to panic. She was completely naked in the middle of a warzone with the only woman who could actually get her out of it alive, and now that woman was….snoring.

Shepard was snoring. Shepard had passed out before being able to fuck her. Miranda buried her head in her hands, completely unsure of how to react to the situation. In all honesty, she was both offended that her physical perfection was clearly insufficient stimulation for the woman, and relieved that she didn't have to go through with the ordeal.

"I hate Omega. I really, really, really hate Omega."

-(|)-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Miri and Ceres have their own agendas, it seems. The hints are there if you look for them. For Metal Gear Solid fans, the flower in Shepard's room is the Grass Lily. That is exactly what you think it means.
> 
> To everyone who kept me on your follow and author alert list, and again I am so freaking sorry this took so long, thanks for sticking around! I cannot tell you how much that means to me. Everytime I saw my e-mail pop up with a "Kudos!" alert, I felt so damn guilty.
> 
> I must have written around 90,000 words of content for this chapter alone, only to have to scrap the vast majority of it for one reason or another. Perhaps parts will find their way back into the story. Who knows?
> 
> Feel free to share your crazy theories in PMs or reviews! Every critique, no matter how small or scathing, is helpful.


	5. Wake Up Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was sponsored in part by LogicalPremise, by which I mean he bitched at me for not updating fast enough while he actually managed to finish "Of Sheep and Battle Chicken". I'm being serious. He actually finished it.
> 
> It's on Fanfiction.net, and I cannot express how great it is. Go read it! If you like this fic, you'll love that one!
> 
> He also kicked the stupid out of a lot of my planned elements. Hooray for collaboration!
> 
> Be sure to read his next story "And Then There Were None"! It's already got like four chapters, and is shaping up to be something very much worth your time. By the time I post this, it'll probably be five chapters.
> 
> At the behest of BSG-Legacy, I'm gonna start putting a little recap in the top note section because of the lag time between updates. Also, if you read Chapter 4 when it first was posted, I strongly recommend reading it again. I updated it with a new version that's basically entirely different around halfway through.
> 
> As always, Bioware owns all, etc and this work was beta'd by BSG-Legacy, MeganD, and that dude with the name I keep mentioning above.
> 
> LAST TIME ON FLOCK OF VANDALS:
> 
> -Shepard and Co. arrived at their bunker, or rather her and Zaeed's
> 
> -They split up to do other things in the bunker. Mordin starts working on Shepard's supplementary implant for her mark. Zaeed takes a nap.
> 
> -Sederis takes several Widow shots to the face, gives zero fucks
> 
> -Bray and Gavorn go visit Eclipse HQ, and attempt to hire Sederis personally. Things go weird.
> 
> -Miranda waddles like a penguin and fails, in fantastic fashion, to manipulate Shepard into regressing back into her old duty. Then Shepard passes out between her legs.

-(|)-

Vasir slowly slipped back into consciousness, her head feeling as though someone had slathered it with grease, dunked it in lukewarm still water, and kicked it into zero-g. She regained her sense of awareness, bits and pieces of information trickling down to her. Then, the pain started again. Searing, jagged metal in her sides and stomach, now a relatively dull echo of what it once was. It still hurt like hell, though.

The sharp sensation threw her mind into high gear, endorphins and ancient training forcing her to adapt. She growled and clumsily clawed at her mask, blind and muted by the collage of crap on her head. As she struggled, she felt a presence over her. She reached out and grabbed it by the neck. Her body and mind jump-starting into full capacity, she tore off her head wrap to see an asari in a choke hold, a shitty bedroom and some ramshackle medical equipment.

"Where am I and who are you?" growled Vasir.

"Safe," the asari croaked. "A friendly."

"Listen to me very carefully. I am going to ask you some questions, and you will answer them. Short and simple." Vasir snarled, remembering the last person who tried to help her. Shepard. That stupid bitch had ruined everything. "Am I still on Omega?"

The asari nodded.

"Is Aria dead?"

She shook her head.

"Good." Vasir narrowed her eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

Another nod.

"Fuck. How?"

"Armor, then the burn on your breast."

Vasir raised a brow before looking down at her right breast. There it was, burned right into her skin. A spectre armory logo. "Dammit." She realized that she was in a hospital gown, and that the asari she was currently gripping by the throat was in a lab coat. "Which would make you Mordin Solus," she said, releasing the asari.

The asari coughed a few times and smoothed out her clothes. "You've got fingers like krogan, you know that?" She robbed her throat and winced. "No, that'd be the salarian down the hall. I'm Doctor Inaara Ceres, the one who put you back together again after those idiots shredded your innards." The doctor sat down in a chair and took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry, you're going to have to give me a second to find my throat. My last patient had a violent allergic reaction to all of her  _free of charge, invasive, organ reconstruction surgery._ "

Vasir gave the doctor a sidelong glance. "Thank you," she said, begrudgingly. "You'll receive payment-"

"I should hope so. I've operated on soldiers before, thousands, and they can come in with some truly horrific injuries, but yours was, by far, the single worst case of how-is-she-not-even-dead I've ever seen."

"I'm hard to kill." That. She remembered that. Stabbed, thrown through a building and crashed into a smoking pile of molten metal. No one had ever gotten the better of her like that before. "Goddess, how long was I out?" Vasir clutched her head, grunting from the massive migraine that was hitting her. "I feel like I got impaled by a rabid acid varren and then entered a headbutting contest with an elcor."

"Oh, wow. Your cognitive abilities must be unimpaired, because you really don't want to know how accurate that was. Medically speaking, you shouldn't be able to heal this quickly, or speak, but at this point I really don't care how that happened." She picked up a datapad and perused through it. "You've been out of commission for around two days now, roughly forty hours. Half of it was in this bed, which as you can see is very much  _not_ a fully equipped clinic with everything I need to actually do my damn job."

Vasir held her sides, gingerly tracing her fingers over her stab wounds. "I'm assuming you didn't harvest my organs, then. I'd be dead already."

"Most likely. I wouldn't have done it anyway. They were basically meat by the time I got to you. Not much of a profit in that," she said, tossing the datapad on to a nearby table. "Organ harvesting should be the least of your worries, spectre. Debriefing's not really my thing, though, so I think I'll let Shepard do it. Mostly because I'd rather you murder her for being the bringer of bad news." She pinched her forehead. "And you are really not going to like what you're gonna hear."

Vasir slowly turned to Ceres, cynical and exhausted. "It's been forty hours. What could have possibly-"

"Rachni and anarchy," she sighed. "That's the abridged version, anyway."

" _Fuck."_

-(|)-

"Okay, Bray, you first. Why are you relevant?" said Sederis, her lips smeared with a cheeky grin.

Bray didn't hesitate. He'd played this kind of game before. Probably. The four asari commandos with rifles and swords at his throat were a new factor, though. "You're talking to me, you haven't killed me yet and you are incapable of wasting time." There was no hidden sarcasm in his voice. He wasn't dumb enough to pull that in front of Sederis. Aria was one thing, but Sederis was quite another.

"You." She tapped his forehead playfully. "I like you. Your blunt speech is somehow eloquent and graceful," she smiled and made eye contact with both sets of his eyes. Stark white on deep black. "Perhaps it's your demeanor, or some other unique, untainted factor of batarian culture I'm uninformed of…"

"Probably the first one, if I had to guess."

Sederis stared at him a moment longer. "Perhaps you are right. We are all alive and  _thriving,_ are we not?" She blinked, pouted, and gestured lazily to the very much dead asari still in her chair. "Except for her, because she's dead and has already served her purpose." Sederis clapped her hands together. "Take the body away and leave us. We shall discuss this business in private."

The four asari sheathed their blades and slung their rifles in perfect unison. Three entered the elevator as the fourth hauled the dead body onto her shoulder to join them shortly after. As soon as the doors closed, Sederis plopped down in her large, cushy chair.

"You, Gavorn. Words. Say them," she said.

Gavorn shifted uneasily. He held his rifle tighter, not that it would do any good, and clenched his mandibles onto his cheeks. "Exactly what he said."

"Mimicry? Oh, how far the mighty, brave and bold turians have fallen! From atop their predatory perch, down to the lowly...lowly-est…" Sederis rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. "Prose. Elocution and execution. It's just far too  _purple._ " Her eyes flickered brightly for a few moments.

Bray narrowed two eyes at the crazy asari, knowing full well that even this was considered odd for Sederis. "Purple?"

"Yes! Bardic! Long, emphasized tales in the form of epic poetry! Fifteen thousand sounds to say a single word!" She laughed. The way her body appeared to writhe, as if it were involuntary, as if her continued existence was somehow pure corruption, was terrifying. "Oh, Goddess, I just realized you two really don't give a shit about this kind of thing!" She smiled happily and slouched into her chair. "You have  _no idea_ how fucking exhausting it gets. Sit, please! Relax." She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk, still smiling.

Bray and Gavorn exchanged a look of utter confusion before taking their seats.

Bray cleared his throat. He had no idea what was happening. "So, thank you for taking the time to talk to us, ma'am. Aria appreciates it."

Sederis raised a brow and frowned. "Somehow I doubt that. Really, though, I should be thanking you two for this merciful interruption." She kicked her feet up on her desk, splattering several forms of viscera on to it. "My people need a public figure, a force of nature, to follow or they'll be lead astray by some loud mouthed squint-" She blinked. "Hm. Squint. Odd racial slur. Bit of a misnomer."

Bray fought the urge to roll all of his eyes. He could see Gavorn trying not to snicker beside him. He smacked him upside the head. "Fuck you too, bird."

Sederis snapped her fingers, redirecting attention. "Hey. Pay attention. Normally I charge up the ass for private consultations, so let's just cut through all the bullshit. I'm guessing Aria needs me to reign in all of these warring idiots. I have no idea who started this weird seven way coup, but it is just  _really poorly executed."_ She rolled her eyes. "Sloppy and unprofessional. A shame, really. I'm honestly embarrassed."

"No, actually. We've got that covered. She needs you to wipe out the red vorcha infestation."

Sederis's posture shifted intensely. She stared at them, castling her hands on the table. "Red Vorcha. Did I hear that right?"

Gavorn nodded. "Yeah. Left unchecked-"

She waved him off flippantly. "I know what they're capable off, and what they are. I was made aware that they  _were_ here. What I don't know is why they're still alive. How long have they been on this station?"

Bray added up the hours in his head. "Around two days, I think. They showed up six hours or so before the Hunt started."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Sederis narrowed her eyes and keyed a command on her terminal. "This is Sederis. I hereby call for the execution of my temporary personal assistant. I don't care who does it, because I don't remember who they are or what they look like, or their race or gender. Just make sure they're dead in the next ten minutes because apparently somebody neglected to inform me of the FUCKING HUNT!" She snarled, her biotics flaring wildly and actually melting a part of the wall behind her with a slash of sharp blue. "We're locked in on this station, aren't we?"

Bray nodded, completely ignoring the violent display of biotics. It wasn't like he hadn't seen that before. Aria had her moments, rare as they were. "Yeah. Aria won't lift the lockdown until the target is either confirmed dead, or brought to her alive." He tilted his head. "Did you...miss the mass broadcast of Aria's declaration? I'm pretty sure we sent it directly to every vidscreen, speaker and omni-tool on the station."

"Apparently I did. I'm not sure how, exactly, but I can't seem to remember that happening. I knew outbound comms were jammed, except for that stupid prophet. I just assumed somebody did that for fun."

Bray sighed and tapped open his omni-tool. He set it to play the recording of Aria's speech. Sederis didn't seem to react until the target's picture came into view.

"Stop. Right there." She practically tossed a datapad at him. "Make me a local copy. Now. Does Aria know who this is?"

"Don't think so." Bray did as he was told and placed the pad on her desk. "Someone you know?"

Sederis furrowed her brow and her eyes glowed white. Suddenly, Bray couldn't move. He writhed, helplessly, as his joints and bones betrayed his commands, twisting and contorting as he was lifted into the air, a foot off the ground. Methodically. Slowly. Painfully. He caught glimpses of Gavorn, sadly in the same predicament.

He couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. Sweat trickled down his body as he tried to helplessly rebel against what he assumed was some form of biotic grip. He'd been hit by battlemasters before, but that had been brute force. This was control, fine and precise. And it was horrifying. He was prepared for death, just not like this.

"Who I know, what I know, and how I've discovered such troves of bountiful knowledge is of no concern to you  _drecks._ You seek assistance from a Goddess, and you offer no tribute." She growled. "I should tear your spines from your bodies and fuse them together so that you two pitiful, weak pyjaks can be bonded for all eternity." She rose from her seat and placed her hands on both of their temples. "But I shall not, for I do not have the luxury of wasting time on such paltry and meaningless displays of power. I will not cleanse this station of your abominations, your demons. Not for you. Not for your queen." Sederis's eyes went jet black. "Embrace the void, and find harmony of the mind."

Then, everything went black.

-(|)-

Aria stared blankly at the holographic projection of her station, its now stable red glow blanketing over her inner sanctum. Afterlife was still hers, for the time being. The dust had settled from the initial chaos, more or less. The PMCs had expanded their borders, and most of the residential districts were an utter mess. Refugees approaching the Eclipse territory were struck down in short order, which wasn't surprising. Sederis was not known for her mercy. Those who approached her or the Suns had varying results. The Suns accepted everyone who would enlist, while Aria had been quite a bit more selective. Anyone who wasn't useful to her were turned away, while the rest were assigned tasks, menial or otherwise, with the promise of future rewards. She intended on delivering on that promise, though it would be paltry and minimal. Just enough to help them, but not enough to be significant.

In addition to the population issue, she'd been getting some alarming delta radiation alerts across the entire station, only for them to vanish a moment later. Repairing those sensors wasn't exactly viable at the moment, since the red vorcha were still out and about.

Tracking their movements had proved relatively easy. They made a lot of noise, and their tunneling wasn't nearly as elegant as the rachni's had apparently been. They were tough, but not invincible. The real danger, though, was if they chose to move their activities to the eezo mines, the reactors, or life support centers.

If even one was breached, she could very well lose the station right then and there. Thankfully, the red vorcha were more hungry than they were anarchists, if they were even capable of such thoughts, that is.

Even with all of that on her mind, the chaos, the death toll, and the horde of monsters ravaging her station, one thing, one stupid thing, couldn't be shaken from her mind.

Shepard.

Aria couldn't stop worrying about Shepard. It was infuriating. Every casualty report, of what little information she could gather, she searched for her name. It never came up, and every human that resembled her description turned out to be just another statistic. Shepard had flown off with that asari, with Zaeed, and that was the last trace of them she'd been able to find.

She needed that asari. She needed that greybox, and whatever what was on it, back. Yet, with every internal utterance of her needs, the only things that could stop this madness, Shepard had always managed to sneak herself onto the list.

It had crossed her mind that Shepard betrayed her and chose to protect the asari for a reason she couldn't even fathom. But Shepard wasn't stupid. She knew the consequences for something as dire as that. Betrayal was impossible, and Aria had made sure of that. Conquering that incomparably efficient, professional and lethal mercenary had been a treat, and a challenge. There was resistance, there always was, but Aria was not one to give in to something so easily manipulated.

In short order, Shepard had become her left arm, doing the work that she couldn't trust anyone else with. If it needed getting done, Shepard got it done. It only made sense, of course. Aria had absorbed all she could about Shepard's past through their increasingly frequent liaisons, but obviously kept her own mind sealed as tightly as possible. Keeping their joining a one way street was difficult at times, but necessary. It was also quite effective in subjugating Shepard than she would have thought.

At the moment, though, she had bigger problems-did she though, truly? She was supposed to be, in the end, Omega's protector. Their ruler. Doubly so for those she cared about, and Shepard was much too valuable an asset to lose.

Aria sighed and willed her omni-tool to life. Omega was, at the moment, in a relative calm. She could risk calling her. At least that way, she'd find out if she was dead or not.

-(|)-

Shepard heard beeping. It was loud and intrusive. She rolled over to smack her alarm clock, only for her arm to find nothing but air. The momentum caused her to lose her balance and she fell face first off of what she had thought was her bed and onto the floor.

Pain surged through her head as she groaned. She was in the armory, of course. She couldn't remember why she was sleeping there, but the beeping wasn't stopping. Shepard slowly got up to her knees to find a very grim looking Miranda staring at her from across the room, her back firmly pressed against the closed shutters.

"Good morning?" said Shepard, followed by a long yawn. "Is the door stuck again? Here, let me have a look-"

"Shepard. Your omni-tool!"

Shepard raised a brow and looked down at her glowing, flashing wrist. It said, in bright bold letters: INCOMING CALL, ARIA. It took Shepard a moment to process that. Her eyes shot out of her head as she swiftly unlocked the shutter doors and kicked Miranda outside. "No time to explain! Everyone be quiet!" she barked into the common room. Her eyes swept the area, only to meet the cold, angry ones of a very conscious Tela Vasir, wearing some of her clothes, being supported by Dr. Ceres. "Shit! I – no time! I'm sorry!" She sealed the door behind her and pulled a pocket mirror out of her pants. She inspected herself closely, and fixed what little of her features she could. With Aria, appearances were paramount.

She needed to fool Aria without compromising their relationship, which was no easy task, especially when the consequence for this level of betrayal, no matter how indirect it may have been, was literally her living nightmare, and Aria knew it.

Sold off to the highest caste of the Hegemony.

Shepard took a deep breath, leaned against her workbench. "Dear God, please let this work," she whispered. She set her omni-tool to record the call, and answered it. Aria's tired, exasperated face popped up on her screen. "Hey-"

" _Thank the Goddess you're still alive, you fucking maniac. Where the hell have you been?_ " she barked at her. Not off to a great start. " _And where is the asari?_ "

"Nice to know you're alive, too. I've been  _really_ busy, so sorry for not reporting in. The red vorcha have made it really difficult to keep to any kind of schedule," she smiled, speaking calmly.

Aria glared at her, and it sent a chill up her spine. " _Yes. Well, they have a way of doing that, don't they? Regardless, I saw that you and Zaeed managed to capture the asari. Why haven't you brought her back to me?_ "

"Welllll…." She looked away, trying to appear ashamed to cover her lies. "She sort of...escaped."

" _I...you cannot be serious. Shepard if this is another one of your terrible jokes..._ "

"It's not, really, I swear. I fucked up. I don't know how she did it, but she took us by surprise, tore Zaeed's car to shreds and ran off. We lost track of her completely after that." She frowned, embarrassed. "I assumed that, since you had already started the Hunt, that someone else would pick her up. I'm really sorry."

" _You assumed? Honestly, Shepard, how naive can you get. The Hunt isn't to catch her. It's to_ ensure she can't escape." She scoffed. " _You fucked up, oh Goddess, you very well and truly did fuck up this time, Shepard. Did you at least manage to make it home alright?"_

Shepard perked up a little. It was rare for Aria to show even that much interest in her. "I did actually, thank you for asking. Had to fight off a horde of red vorcha, but otherwise Zaeed and I are okay. He's not too happy about losing his car, though."

Aria narrowed her eyes. " _Shepard, hold off on the banal for a moment, you can't just gloss over this. You fought a horde of those things."_

"Yup."

" _And won."_

"I'd say it's more like I survived and escaped, rather than won."

" _I'm recording this call as of now. Explain to me, in as much detail as possible, how you were able to do that."_

Shepard hesitated. Telling the whole story would undermine everything, and that would be it. Omitting only Vasir's presence would have Aria question as to why it was that Shepard had manifested a team of sorts. Shepard was questioning that as well, but she couldn't deny that if not for them, they'd all be dead. She had to play this just right. "Anti-rachni tactics. It's not really any more complicated than that. Explosives, biotics and thermite."

Aria paused, but then slowly nodded.  _"I wouldn't have made the connection to the rachni in the middle of a fight. Quick thinking on your part, Shepard. In any case, I need you back at Afterlife before things get even more out of hand."_

Shepard paled and swallowed. "I, uhm, can't exactly do that."

" _Shepard. Did you forget how this works? You said it yourself. I call, you come."_

Shepard clenched her jaw.  _"_ Aria, I'm not going to venture into the horde to get all the way to Afterlife. Any transport I have will get torn apart, and any aircraft will be shot out of the sky in short order. I also can't exactly make the trip by walking." She sighed, frowning apologetically. "I'm really sorry, but it's just not in the cards right now."

Aria scowled at her for a long moment. Mercifully, she backed down with a roll of her eyes. " _Fine. Coward. I thought you were more confident than this, but I suppose not. Promise me this, though. The moment, the_ second,  _that you have the chance to get here, you take it, no exceptions. I don't care what you're doing at the time. I don't care if you're saving the fucking galaxy. If you see an opening, you take it. Drop everything and go. Understood?"_

"Absolutely."

" _Promise me."_

"I promise," she said, nodding a few times. Shepard hated that part.

" _Good. Stay alive."_

"You too."

The call ended, and Shepard wiped away the sweat that was forming on her brow. She'd lied to Aria before, but never with so much on the line, or the sheer amount of nuance and intricacies the situation contained. Hopefully, that bought her enough time to get the spectre to safety.

"Sorry about that, had a personal call that couldn't wait." Shepard opened the shutter doors and froze in place as she came face to face with five gun barrels brought to bare solely at her head. "I feel like I missed something here."

Vasir, Miranda, Ceres, Mordin, and even Zaeed were glaring at her. Mordin, above all, looked hurt. Betrayed. Vasir and Ceres were merely enraged, while Miranda and Zaeed looked reluctant and confused.

Vasir, who had found her horrifically deadly sidearm once again, broke the silence. "Lawson here-"

"Miranda is fine," interjected Miranda.

"Shut up.  _Miranda...,_ " Vasir glared at the aforementioned woman. "Saw your omni-tool. Aria has your personal frequency, she called you. You answered it."

Zaeed scowled at her even more intensely. "Shepard, I think you know what I do to goddamn traitors. I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this, but just like everyone else, you stabbed me in the back. Good job. At least it's fucking consistent."

Mordin sighed deeply. "Lapse in judgment most likely due to...deteriorating impulse control and overall mental state. Thought you were stronger than this, Karen…"

"No, it had nothing to do with – I can explain. I didn't compromise us." Shepard traced her eyes over each of them and licked the inside of her lips. Her heart rate spiked and sweat dripped down her back. "I recorded the entire call. If you just let me play it-"

Vasir shook her head. "And then what? You'll stab me again, take out the rest of your 'friends', just so you can stay in Aria's favor? You saved my life when you could have killed me, but chose not to," she snarled. "I thought you were above this."

Miranda furrowed her brow. "Maybe we should at least listen to the call. She could be telling the truth."

"I am. I swear to God that I am."

At that, Zaeed and Mordin exchanged a look. They both lowered their weapons. Miranda stared at the two of them for a moment before slowly doing the same. Shepard gave the three of them a small smile.

"Unbelievable," growled Vasir. "I don't know what game you're playing, Shepard, but it ends here."

Shepard wasn't going to wait for Vasir to strike first. She wouldn't survive it. "I'm sorry it came to this." She focused her breath and reached out with both arms and biotics with grounded feet, curling a crude series of stasis fields around the joints of both asari. She twisted her wrists, and they yelped in pain as they forcibly dropped their weapons on the floor. Shepard released them from her biotic grip and sprinted towards Vasir, exploiting her momentary confusion to snap a biotic suppression collar around neck. Not a moment later, she whipped another collar at Ceres, the device traveling like a boomerang as it locked around her neck. Both asari shuddered as their biotics were forcibly severed from them. Shepard knew the feeling. Hollow. Unbalanced.

It was like having your essence, your soul, torn from you.

Without a word, Zaeed quickly tied their hands and ankles together before they could recover. Vasir glared murder at Shepard, while Ceres just sat silently. Shepard hated that technique. It felt wrong to use, but she'd been forced to use it once again. Otherwise, she wasn't confident she could take the two asari down non-lethally with minimal physical damage.

Vasir actually laughed. It was pure shock. "I don't fucking believe it. You  _gripped_ me! You fucking biotic gripped me! I've met maybe a dozen asari in my life who can pull off that technique, and only one of them was actually decent at it. And she could do it without mnemonics." She shook her head, grinning. "But no, no, you just  _had_ to be the one fucking human to grasp it. Let me guess, Aria taught it to you, huh? Teaching her little whores to defend themselves."

Shepard knelt down next to Vasir and narrowed her eyes. She wanted to wring her throat for that last comment. She calmed the fury that was building in the pit of her stomach and glared at Vasir. "I taught myself. Aria isn't even aware the technique exists outside of what she perceives as my own little power fantasies."

"Is one of them playing out right now, you fucking traitor?"

Shepard opened her omni-tool and set the recording of the call to play on the big vidscreen across the room. Her and Aria's voice booming from the speakers made her feel all sorts of uncomfortable, but she held her posture. She wasn't going to show weakness or doubt in front of Vasir. She couldn't. Not then.

Then, much to everyone's surprise, Vasir's jaw dropped as the recording ended. She looked at Shepard, though not out of hate, but fear. "Shepard," she asked evenly. "The part about the red vorcha. Is that true?"

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. You were in the IFV at the time-"

"Shut up, that's not important. They're alive. That's what you're telling me. That they're  _still alive,_ an entire horde of them,and tearing through the station like the rachni."

Shepard stood up and looked down at the spectre, tilting her head curiously. It was worrying that the spectre was focusing on that instead of the more pressing problem. Escaping the station. "They're alive, and they're hungry. Claws as thick as a rifle, bigger than krogan, and, from what Zaeed saw, immune to fire."

Vasir's took a shaky breath. "Okay. Shepard, it's clear you haven't betrayed us, despite your 'relationship' with Aria. We can deal with that later. Right now, there's something you need to understand. All of you, actually. We are now dealing with a Tier II weapon of mass destruction under the Treaty of Farixen."

"Engineered! Disgusting, perversion of genetics! Sloppy and out of control, should have added terminator genes and truncated lifespan! Sterility!" snapped Mordin.

Vasir growled back at him. "Don't you think I know that?! Each batch was designed to have a lifespan of no more than five hours, along with total sterility! This wasn't supposed to happen! None of this was! I smuggled in  _four,_ not an entire horde!"

Everyone stared at Vasir in shock. Even Ceres managed to turn herself back on.

Ceres scowled at her. "You brought them here. You unleashed the rachni. Again. That's the exact fucking opposite of your job!"

Vasir groaned. "I'm well aware of that. Goddess, can you people just untie us so we can talk all of this out?" She fidgeted in her bindings. "We don't have time to keep doubting one another's loyalties! I need to know what the fuck has been going on, and trust me there is quite a bit of information that you're going to need if we want to get out of this alive."

Shepard nodded to Zaeed, who released them from their bindings and the collars. He handed the collars back to her, grumbling something vaguely racist. Ceres sat down in a chair and Vasir stood straight up.

Vasir flexed her fingers. "Got a holoprojector in here?"

Shepard jabbed her thumb at the largest table in the room. "Right in the center."

"Then let's get started."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing…"

Vasir gave Shepard a sidelong glance. "What?"

"We picked up a turian along the way. Barefaced-"

"Kill him,"

"He surrendered, and honestly he was able to disarm Zaeed without him realizing it. Impressive stuff."

"Fine. It's on you if he fucks us. Get him out here so we can stop wasting time!"

-(|)-

The loading ramp of the Barracuda IFV slowly lowered open, revealing the bright, overbearing lights of the bunker proper. Rolan pulled his mandibles back in a scowl. Omni-cuffs were easy to get out of, in fact most modern restraints were. The bindings on his hands and feet had already been removed, as if they could have ever held him. The particular brand of shock collar that Zaeed had wrapped around his neck was distinctly of batarian design. All function, no form. Not to mention that it shocked him just a bit harder than was strictly necessary. He wasn't able to disable that one, no matter how hard he tried. Every tactic he'd developed over the years had proven useless, and in fact it felt as though they were being actively countered. Predicted, even.

Shepard popped her head inside the vehicle and frowned at him. Her eyes snapped down to his wrists and legs. "Clever bird." She walked over to him, now in clean clothes and a leather jacket, and smirked, poking the shock collar. "And yet, you couldn't find your way out of this one, eh? That's because it's custom. Let me guess…" She teasingly rubbed her chin and looked at the ceiling. "You tried to manipulate the IFV's eezo core to emit the right frequency pattern to use the manufacturer override? And when that didn't work, you tried disassemble the locking mechanism between shocks, only to find that it had been welded together."

Rolan looked up at her, intrigued. He ran his talons across the troublesome lock at the base of his skull. "There were a few more rather unorthodox attempts, but yes, accurate. Impressive design work. SIU adapted design, I assume. VI-directed. Excellent craftsmanship."

Shepard tilted her head and gave him a sad smile. "Uh, thanks. Not a VI, but yeah, an SIU adaptation. I've been hit with one too many of those kinds of things, and broken out of most of them, so I figured that making my own, and countering my own tactics, would be an effective engineering exercise," she said, her voiced tainted with a hint of shame. She rubbed her throat. "Helps with bounty hunting. Not one of my prouder creations, but it's…useful." She looked away. "You said you wanted to prove yourself, right?"

"That I did, though I'm strongly reconsidering it. You had me bound like a common beast, a slave, and thrown in here so I wouldn't be a bother," he said, his voice still smooth as ever.

Shepard sighed and sat down beside him. "Yeah, that was over the line. I apologize, but frankly, you should know better than to fuck with Zaeed like that. One conversation with that man should have told you that." She ran her fingers through her hair and puffed out her cheeks. "The past few days have been a waking nightmare, bird, but my gut is telling me we're going to need someone with your supposed skill set. Your little demonstration, while arrogant, was nothing if not impressive."

Rolan considered her for a moment. She'd apologized. He hadn't considered that a possibility. He'd met very few humans who could admit fault at any level, and even then they had to be goaded or coerced into doing so. His situation was mistreatment of a prisoner in her eyes, he realized. She was the one who decided not to kill him outright, when the general consensus of Omega would have done so without hesitation. It wasn't mercy, but acknowledgement of honorable warfare. Those who surrender are no longer combatants, and thus killing them would be akin to execution.

Murder.

In the lawless stretch of the galaxy, he'd managed to find the one mercenary with a sense of honor and ethics.

"I'm pleased to know that my performance was well received, in a way," he drolled, voice like silk. "Before I accept your apology, no matter how gracious it may be, I need you to do something for me."

"Which would be what, exactly?"

"Get this damned thing off of my neck."

Shepard snorted and placed three fingers on the collar. "Easy enough. Pay close attention." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Rolan felt an odd sense of biotic energy around his neck, and then, as if it were magic, the collar disengaged and split in half. "There we are."

Rolan looked down at the two halves of the collar, eyes burrowing into their shapes in order to discern their design. "How…?"

Shepard picked the two halves up and gave him a wry look. "Trade secret." She slipped one piece up each of her sleeves. "I think we've wasted enough time. If you still want in, on whatever this is, get your bony ass up and join us at the table. If you don't Zaeed blows your head off and leaves you for the red vorcha. Our HVI is lucid, and we'll need you to fully debrief her." Shepard walked out of the IFV, her boots stomping against the cold metal floor.

Rolan got to his feet and quickly removed his heavy Suns armor, revealing his typical attire. A formal black suit with white accents. He was rather partial to living, and if he was going to get off this station, his original assumption still rang true.

These people were the key.

-(|)-

The next thing Bray knew he was standing outside of Afterlife with the single worst hangover in galactic history. He groaned and clutched his head, turning to see Gavorn beside him, doing the same.

"What the fuck did we even do?" he asked his turian partner. "How much did I drink? How much did  _you_ drink, and why the fuck is this happening now?"

Gavorn threw up his arms and began walking through the front entrance of the club. "No idea! I don't even care, because apparently I consumed enough alcohol to kill a thresher maw. Let's call it a day and just report in. We got everyone's support, so unless we're forgetting something, we're done!"

Bray groaned as he followed him. There wasn't any fault in that logic. "Yeah, I'm with you. Damn miracle we pulled off."

"No disagreements here."

They had managed, somehow, to secure an alliance with every one of the major factions of Omega to rally against the red vorcha. He couldn't recall how they'd done that, not exactly, but the brief flashes were that of a massive party and lots and lots of alcohol. It seemed like something he would try to get people back on Aria's side. It had even worked on Sederis, which felt odd.

Bray stopped in his tracks and squinted all four of his eyes. "Where the hell is Patriarch?"

"Who knows? I'm sleeping this off. If you care that much about the old krogan, you go find him."

"That sounds like an excessive waste of my very valuable time. I don't think Aria would approve."

Gavorn rolled his eyes. "Even hungover into oblivion, you still manage to be an asshole. Amazing."

"I do what I do."

-(|)-

Vasir glared at the barefaced turian as he exited the IFV, wearing a formal suit. She rolled her eyes and gestured to the rest of them. "Okay, before we even consider starting anything, I want make sure we're all in the same state of mind. In the interest of full disclosure, for those of you too thickheaded to take the hint, I'm Tela Vasir, an agent of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. I have no official jurisdiction here, and my mere presence, if it were ever proven, could be very, very bad." She folded her hands behind her back. "My goal, overall, is to ensure that doesn't happen. If I have to die, so be it, but it  _cannot_ be on this station. My face is plastered everywhere, but that can easily be explained away as forgery. My dead body, armor and blood however, cannot."

She narrowed her eyes at each and every one of them. "I don't know how Shepard roped the rest of you into this. Maybe she bribed you. Maybe she coerced you. Maybe she's just that fucking fantastic of a leader. It is what it is. You're here. Fact of the matter is, I don't care about your motivations. As long as we're all working towards the same goal, you can do whatever the hell you want. So I'm going to ask you once, and only once. Shepard, what is your top priority?"

Shepard met her gaze fiercely. "To get you off this station as discreetly, and quickly, as possible. I'm aware of the potential consequences if we fail, spectre. You have my word that I won't let that happen."

"Not the best vote of confidence since you already tried to kill me, but I'll take it. Zaeed, what about you?"

Zaeed shrugged. "I'm not goddamn stupid. This is the biggest job I've ever had a part of, and it won't be my employer's ass if we fuck it up. It'll be our asses, and everyone elses asses. Besides, we're probably going to have to cut our way through the Suns to get off this rock, so I can kill Vido on the way out."

"Got a score to settle with Santiago, huh?"

Zaeed pointed to the bad side of his face. "He shot me in the face. So yeah, you could say I've got a fucking score to settle." He growled. "Not to mention that goddamn _tupari machine_."

Shepard ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh my God, Zaeed, it's a  _vending machine-"_

" _IT MOCKED ME AND I'M GOING FUCKING TO GUT IT!_ "

Vasir cleared her throat. "Okay, good. Violent. Miranda?"

"Being well versed in the current galactic political climate, it is my duty as a citizen of-"

"Very patriotic. I'm sure your Shastri is  _very_ proud of you," mocked Vasir. "Bareface?"

The turian shrugged. "Rolan Quarn. My top priority is living long enough to die of old age. If assisting in your escape accomplishes that, spectre, than I shall serve with the best of my ability."

Vasir screwed up her face and exchanged a look with Shepard. "Where the hell did you find this guy?"

"He actually came with the Barracuda."

"You're shitting me."

"'Fraid not."

Vasir clapped her hands sarcastically. "Okay, fantastic. Doctor Ceres?"

Ceres raised a brow and looked over at Mordin. "What's that string of words human doctors say when they promise they won't harm patients?"

"Ah. Hippocratic Oath."

" _Hippocratic Oath._ Why would you even ask me? I already put you back together! Why would I want all that work to go to waste?" she said, sounding offended. "Not to mention my lack of malpractice insurance. You know, because we're on  _Omega."_

Vasir grew a bemused expression. "I get it. Doctor Solus."

"Hippocratic Oath, also assisting Karen with-"

Shepard hissed, cutting him off while making slashing motions over her throat.

Vasir looked between the both of them. "Whatever it is you're trying to keep between the two of you, is it going be detrimental to us in any way, shape or form?"

"Absolutely not."

"Unlikely."

"Mordin!"

"Won't lie to spectre!"

Vasir sighed and waved them off dismissively. "I guess that's as good as we're going to get. Okay, let's get started. Shepard, can you bring up a projection of Omega?"

Shepard nodded and did just that. Sort of. A badly cobbled together projection of the station lit up the room. It was made up of glitchy maps and ancient investment pamphlet pictures, along with crude photos that were probably taken by Shepard herself.

Vasir looked at Shepard, unamused. "Really.  _This_ is Omega?"

Shepard scowled back at her. "Well what the hell do you expect? This isn't a secret underground base for some fringe black ops organization to plan massive internal military uprisings!  _It's just my fuckng house."_

Quarn took a closer look at the projector and laughed. "And you continue to impress me, Shepard. I never would have thought of hacking an advert display as a multipurpose holoprojector."

Vasir raised both brows. "You have got to be kidding me."

" _Commander Shepard, it has been STRING MISSING months since your last visit to STRING MISSING D.D.S! Don't you think it's time to make that smile even brighter?"_

Miranda covered her mouth, looking as if she was going to vomit. "Good god, that's revolting."

"You try finding a dentist on Omega who doesn't try and steal your damn kidneys!" Shepard kicked the table several times until the glitchy hologram stopped talking and became a more agreeable display of Omega. "There! Okay? Everyone happy now?"

Much to Vasir's disappointment, it was not real time. It was Omega as it had been a few days prior, not as it was presently. No detailing of defenses, or architectural markings. Just the station. It would have to do.

"No, but we'll make it work. Let's start with a basic timeline of events and work our way from there." She typed a few commands into her omni-tool, and a vertical list of timestamps appeared next to the projection of Omega. "Everyone put in their own data, even if it's redundant. Locations, events, everything. We need all of our intelligence centralized if we're going to have any chance of figuring this out."

In a few minutes, the timeline was filled, complete with vid attachments from the IFV's outer cameras, Aria's broadcast, and Zaeed's rifle scope.

Vasir looked at Shepard. "Greybox."

She poked Zaeed, who tossed it to her. "There you go, girlie. Don't worry, we didn't peak. No goddamn clue how that technology works, anyway."

Vasir nodded and set the greybox on the table. "Appreciate it. As for the rest of you,  _this_ is Aria's real target. Not me, as she would like you to believe. She assumes that it is in my possession, and she is currently correct. It contains information of the highest level of security clearance in Citadel space. To put it simply, I don't have access to this information, even though I was tasked in acquiring it."

Shepard nodded and leaned over the table. "You might want to go over  _how_ you acquired it. I move for as much transparency as we can afford, spectre. Just in case."

Vasir frowned. "No. We won't be doing that."

"Could you at least explain how that kid out mindfucked, Aria?"

Vasir sighed and pinched her forehead. "Fine. She was a rekshi."

Ceres snorted. "Figures."

Vasir rolled her eyes. "Explain it to the masses, doctor. I know you're dying to."

"It's a lesser strain of the Ardat-Yakshi mutation, which for those of you who don't know, hopefully none of you, is basically...an asari who eats your brain by bonding, thus killing you, and absorbing your strength. For the mutant, their biotic strength grows, and their hunger increases with each feeding." She crossed her arms. "The Rekshi are a bit different. They don't lose control after feeding, yet gain some biotic strength, and it rarely ever ends in the partner's death. However, the mental battle is still more powerful than almost any matriarch, if they are trained. Most go through life without ever realizing they are one, since the bond is rarely intense enough to be perceived as anything other than really good sex. They are capable of being fully functioning members of society, though some are caught earlier in life, and trained in the art of mental fortitude and assault."

Shepard raised her brows. "That's some serious black ops shit, right there. Which means, you didn't want T'Koma to actually kill Aria, you wanted Aria to take the bait."

"Perceptive," said Vasir.

"But then why did you blow the windows-"

"Hush. No more questions."

Ceres sighed. "Lyrali T'Koma. Honestly, the name should have tipped her off."

"Why? Sounds asari to me," asked Zaeed.

Miranda hummed. "It's their equivalent of Jane and John Doe for us. Unidentified persons with a currently unknown history."

Vasir snapped her fingers. "Okay, now that we've got that out of the way. What happened at the clinic. I blacked out as we landed."

"This is ridiculous." Ceres groaned. "I put you back together, an assassin targeting you killed all but one of my surgical team, who turned out to be Miranda, who then killed the assassin. Then we get the broadcast, Shepard pulls a gun on me, we steal clothes, food, and lots of energy drinks, wrap your head in gauze, hijack  _that_ monstrosity-" She points to the Barracuda. "-with barefaced inside of it, fend off a horde of red vorcha, escape using massive collateral damage, drive here, and you know the rest."

Vasir blinked. "Oh, well that works. Am I fully debriefed, then?"

Everyone nodded.

"Good. Wait, Mordin, what are you mumbling to yourself about?"

Shepard smiled fondly. "He does that sometimes. Auditory learner."

Vasir shrugged. "Fair. Moving on, since apparently all of that debriefing, besides the Hunt, was pretty irrelevant, we have three primary objectives. One, send a message to my ship, the  _Orisini_ , that's docked over Imorkan to give them a time and location for extraction. I don't see us using a ship that's already on the station as a viable option, because they're probably made of paper. Our second objective is to disable the GTS/STS and GARDIAN defenses all across the station  _just before_ the  _Orisini_ comes into position. We can't give them time to reboot. Third, and this is the least likely of them all, extermination of the red vorcha. We cannot allow them to breed beyond the station."

Shepard shook her head. "The first one is already impossible. All outbound communications are jammed. Even the extranet is blocked. There's no way we can get a signal off of this station."

Miranda narrowed her eyes. "That may not be entirely accurate." She willed her omni-tool to life and turned on her omni-tool's radio. Static. "I'm tuned to a random frequency, local. If I keep scanning, eventually I'll find…"

" _I don't think they're coming back for Patriarch. Think we should just kill him?"_

" _Nah, let's just leave him. Red vorcha will get him. C'mon let's get some varren kebabs."_

Vasir raised a brow. "Blood Pack?"

Miranda nodded. "They typically don't encrypt their transmissions, so that's the most likely explanation. That was local. If I tune to the mad prophet…"

Everyone in the room groaned.

"Trust me, I'm going somewhere with this," grumbled Miranda.

"You had goddamn better be. I am sick of this stupid rants," said Zaeed.

" _BROTHERS AND SISTERS-"_

Miranda shrugged. "He didn't cut out, I just muted him. Now, we switch to frequencies designated for the comm buoys and…"

" _SISTERS IN ARMS! THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT IS FINALLY-"_

"That's enough of that." Miranda closed her omni-tool and smiled. "It's an  _identical_ transmission, yet it's being broadcast off of the station. Only the mad prophet is able to make his voice heard."

Shepard snickered. "The irony there is amazing."

Vasir narrowed her eyes and leaned forward onto the table. "You're suggesting we reprogram the transmission? For all we know, whatever method that idiot is using to bypass the jamming will only work for this specific transmission. That is, assuming we can even  _find_ where's broadcasting from. Spectres before me have tried and failed. He's a ghost. Besides, Aria would instantly know something was wrong if the message changed to anything else."

Miranda shook her head. "We wouldn't need to reprogram the transmission, not entirely. I can embed a small string of text, no more than two hundred fifty six characters, into the visual portion of the signal. If we set the signal to go through a specific comm buoy, it'll bounce all the way to some...friends of mine." Miranda evened her expression and looked around the room. "Friends who are always,  _always,_ looking for messages in that specific format."

Vasir nodded slowly. Clearly, there was more to Miranda than she had thought. Vasir wasn't sure if she was military, or third-party special forces, but either way, she'd be watching her. Closely. "Okay. Then what would your 'friends' do?"

"Send a message to your ship directly, assuming you have confirmation codes to ensure your identity in case of-"

"I do, obviously. They were on my omni-tool, but I memorized them in case that thing was junked. Which it was." Vasir turned to frown at Shepard. "Thanks for that, by the way. And for the shitty civilian loaner model."

"Shut up," grumbled Shepard.

"In any case, if we can find the broadcast center, and if what you're saying is true, that'll work fine," said Vasir, taking a closer look at the display. "If memory serves, the last spectre before me who tried to find the broadcast center determined a lot of places where it  _wasn't._ Specifically…" She outlined roughly half of the station. Parts of the lower spine, and almost all of the asteroid proper. "It's not in the mines, or near the bottom."

Shepard scratched her cheek. "Zaeed and I have been doing some...investigating on the station during our time here, and we've blown open many a building during jobs. We can probably narrow it down as well."

In a few minutes, not counting the numerous breakouts of bickering between everyone except Quarn and Mordin, who had been keeping to themselves, Vasir was pleased to see that around ninety-five percent of Omega was crossed out.

"Okay. That's more like it," she said, grinning. "Four possible locations, so we'll have to split up. One is in the Sun's territory-"

Zaeed perked up and smashed his hand against the table, cracking it. "That one!"

Shepard rubbed her temples. "Stop. Breaking. The furniture."

Vasir chuckled and nodded at Zaeed. "Okay, you get the Suns-"

"Goddamn right."

"-and Quarn."

"Goddammit!"

Quarn didn't look too offended. "I'll make sure they don't see us coming."

"I'd rather they did, dumbass," barked Zaeed.

"Hey! Shut up! Okay, target two is...okay, it's more like six or seven targets in close proximity. Miranda, Ceres? Have any problems working together again?"

Miranda shook her head. "None at all."

Ceres gave Miranda a sidelong glance. "You're not the  _worst_ nurse I've ever had the displeasure of working with, so I'm sure it'll turn out fine. Wonderfully, even."

"Your bedside manner is terrible."

" _Can't imagine why."_

Vasir sighed and turned to Shepard. "Which leaves you and me for the third location, Eclipse territory, since the fourth one is fucking stupid."

"I don't know, if I were an insane batarian, I'd position my secret broadcasting station outside of the station itself. Well,  _inside_ but only accessible from the outside," said Quarn.

Shepard shrugged. "We'll hit that place last if everything else is a dead end. We'd need to space walk to get there, anyway."

Miranda cursed. "Right! No one can wear helmets! Red Vorcha screams shatter mil-spec glass." She traced the scars on her cheek. "Bit of a close call with that revelation."

Vasir stared at the table. "That won't be a problem once we're  _in space where there isn't any sound_. Ugh. Then how am I going to hide my face?!"

"Balaclava?" suggested Shepard.

"That's gonna look really stupid on me, isn't it?"

"Probably, yeah."

Vasir sighed. "Okay, so that leaves Doctor Solus as...are you comfortable with keeping us updated on our progress, Doctor? Collating data from each team and relaying it to the other."

Mordin nodded several times. "Yes. Easily done, can multitask with other, more pressing matters."

Vasir raised a brow. "What could possibly be more important than-"

"No, no, no, no, that...no," sputtered Mordin, sprinting over to this terminal. "Can't, must be some mistake. Other alternative. Civil War can't be instigated without volatility. Only theoretical. Political simulation, not meant for real world application unless retaliation was...insurmountable threat…" He shook his head. "No, red vorcha not widespread, no concept of nationalism or government. Capacity for emotional attachment unlikely, would have to be quarians. humans. batarians. krogan." He looked up at Vasir, black eyes wide and filled with fear. "Oh no."

Shepard was already at Mordin's side. "What? What's wrong? Christ, I've never seen you this worried. Normally, you're just excited at this level of hyperactivity but...Mordin? You're scaring me. What's wrong?"

Zaeed stared at the salarian, looking like he was constipated. That man had the oddest facial expressions. "Yeah, this is...wrong. He's supposed to be all jumpy and, well, not goddamn depressing about shit that I don't understand."

Vasir's eyes slowly widened as it hit her. "Aria doesn't know what's on the greybox." She stared down at it. "...because it's not  _her_ memories that they want." She looked back up at Mordin. "You fucked her, didn't you?"

Mordin nodded. "Once."

Shepard almost jumped backward. "Wow. Uh. Great job?"

"No. Opposite."

Vasir narrowed her eyes at Mordin. "Doctor. What did you know?"

Mordin took a deep breath and laid his hands on the table. "Outline. Very rough, concept only, but with funding, interest, talent…" He cleared his throat. "Possible genophage cure."

Vasir swallowed, trying her best not to panic and destroy the entire bunker. "Goddess,  _please_  tell me that I misheard that."

Shepard was pale and shivering. "I never thought I'd say this, but God, please make me have a stroke thirty seconds ago."

Ceres stared, wide eyed at Mordin. "You're insane. You are completely and utterly insane."

Miranda buried her head in her hands. "We...this can't happen. This  _can't_ happen. I have to…" She slammed her fists against the table, eyes filled with rage. "We have to destroy it."

Zaeed rolled his eyes. "He said  _possible_ cure, not a goddamn miracle. Fucking crybabies…"

Shepard growled and glared at him. "Zaeed. Do you have  _any fucking idea_ what happens now if Aria gets her hands on that? If Vasir  _dies_ here? If we fail? Do you have  _even the slightest goddamn clue as to what will happen!?"_

Zaeed shrugged. "Not really, no."

"Civil War. Not just political theory. Not just a simple simulation to test diplomatic limits, and certainly not just my overactive imagination and inherent paranoia! The galaxy will most likely get mired in an intragalactic civil war that-"

Vasir stared at the projection of Omega. "It will last an asari lifetime. Billions will die for nothing. The Citadel will fall. If Aria can strike a deal with the krogan of this magnitude, she will control them. If she controls the krogan, other races will follow her out of fear, or out of similar ideology. Tensions are high enough as it is right now back in Citadel space. Everyone but the council races are enraged at the balance of power. Freedom from that, the inequality staring them in the face everyday for their entire lives, is an enticing and motivating offer." She took a shaky breath. "Only the Hierarchy will stand with the Citadel, that's an absolute. My own people will be divided, so will Mordin's."

Miranda recomposed herself. "The Alliance will probably side with Aria. Most of us feel...cheated. Left behind and in the dark," she said, giving Shepard a quick glance.

Shepard sneered. "Doesn't surprise me."

Zaeed crossed his arms. "Alright. I don't normally give a shit about politics, but this, this fucking thing...I don't goddamn like this. I don't want it. Small time ground wars are one thing, but this is fucking stupid."

Quarn looked around the room. "There's a simple solution to all of this."

Ceres glared at him. "Is there, bareface? Is there  _really?_ Please, indulge us in this miracle solution of yours!"

"We move forward. Follow the plan. We don't fail," he said, sounding uncharacteristically patriotic. "The only thing that's changed is our motivation. We all have the same one. Preventing that insanity."

Vasir picked up the greybox and stared at it. "Without destroying this..."

Shepard set her jaw and walked over to her. "We have to destroy it. I won't let you kill Mordin, he can keep a secret-"

"Apparently not! And it's not up to me. Council still wants this thing, so I am bound to give it to them. They'll probably just archive it away where no one will ever see it again. And if we're lucky..." She looked over at Mordin. "He'll die of old age, thus destroying all traces of the cure."

Mordin nodded. "Would prefer that."

"All right. Time to stop moping around and start getting the job done." Vasir turned to Shepard, clipping the greybox to her belt. "Shepard, what do we have in terms of armaments?"

Shepard's panicked expression slowly reformed into a sly smirk. "An  _excessive_ amount." She cracked her knuckles. "And that's not even counting some of my more...eccentric pieces."

"And just like that, I'm starting to like you."

-(|)-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we enter Part 2, and I start to pull back the curtain. Thanks for sticking with me this long, folks! It's only gonna get better.
> 
> Sederis and Shepard's biotic grip technique is not inspired by the Force Choke. Nope, it's actually bloodbending. Sort of. I had the idea a long time ago, but I never associated with bloodbending until recently. It's mostly the physical mnemonics that Shepard uses that take inspiration from the bloodbending. Think...Tarrlok, but even less refined.
> 
> If you're curious as to why she didn't use it in their previous fight, it's because Shepard actually needs a moment to focus and breathe to pull it off. It's an incredibly complicated and draining technique that she can't do on the fly like Sederis. In addition, it's really not that tactically useful, or even relevant, unless you can appropriately master it. It's because of this that it's VERY RARELY taught to asari, if ever at all. It exists, and there's documentation of it, but that doesn't mean it's very well known. 
> 
> In fact, a lot of the combat in this series was inspired by the Avatar universe, rather than DBZ, Hong Kong action films, or kung fu movies. Those of you who can pick out which sequences were inspired by a specific kind of bending get an internet cookie!
> 
> The collapsing/multipurpose/throwable biotic suppression collars can be visualized like batarangs. Expect to see more of those, as well as lots of other fun gadgets. For extra clarity, Shepard bought a bunch of the 'boomerangs' and improved upon the original batarian design (the SIU is their special forces division). It's not something she thought up on her own.
> 
> Originally, the Greybox was actually filled with junk data, so the whole thing was a ruse. LogicalPremise kicked the stupid out of that. I like this much better. Y'all should go read his story, Of Sheep and Battle Chicken, on FF.net!"
> 
> Comments and thoughts are appreciated! No matter how scathing or minimal! :D


	6. Napalm for the Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, don't worry, you're not having a stroke! Chapter Six had a turnaround of less than eighteen hours! That's INSANE! Why? Part of a race.
> 
> That I won. Suck it, LogicalPremise.
> 
> The following work was beta'd by MeganD and that...other guy. Not BSG, the third guy. What's his name? Eh, it's probably not important.
> 
> Bioware owns all, etc.
> 
> No recap this time.

 

-(|)-

Vasir was not easily impressed. As she walked into the armory, following closely behind Shepard as the woman listed off the rather ridiculous amount of firepower that was in their possession, Vasir couldn't help but be more than a little amazed at the collection. A lot of it was discontinued Hierarchy gear, but perfectly maintained. Rifles, shotguns, heavy machine guns, sub machine guns, assault rifles, and pistols that were really just grenade launchers lined the walls in spotless condition.

One thing was clear: Shepard had been preparing for war out of pure paranoia. And all of that planning had just paid off.

"...most of those are just optimized, so there's no difference in how they're operated. Performance wise, though, they've got quite a bit more kick to them," said Shepard, her prideful voice booming through the armory, as if she were giving a tour through an art gallery. Clearly she was enjoying this. "Now, as for the more unique pieces, we've got an M-98 Widow, but I don't think any of us can fire that without breaking a shoulder. We also have these odd Mattocks that Miranda had in her car. They're automatic, and chew threw thermal clips like a machine gun, but they tear through the red vorcha twice that."

"They're called Harriers, actually," said Miranda.

"Okay, Harriers then. Then, in terms of heavy weapons, we've got a crate full of ML-77s, Firestorms, and M-100s. I wouldn't suggest using the Firestorms, because they're pretty much useless against some of the more  _rachni-like_ combatants." Shepard moved over to the back of the armory, the wall covered by a large tarp, and smiled wide. "Okay, so this is where things get  _really_ fun. Not that this situation is fun. At all. But…" She shrugged. "You know what I mean."

Vasir crossed her arms and inspected the Harrier a little more closely. The logo seemed oddly familiar. Cerberus. She slowly looked up at the rest of the group, hard eyes settling on the back of Miranda's head. What was one of the SA's best, brightest, and most deadly doing here on Omega? And following this random woman, no less. At the moment, she supposed it wasn't a top priority, but still. Miranda needed to be watched.

"Now, all of this is all well and good for taking down the odd red vorcha pack or merc squad, but what happens when we run into something we simply just can't fight conventionally?" asked Shepard, clearly not actually wanting an answer from the crowd.

"Blow it up," said Zaeed. "Burn it. Space it. Melt it."

"Those are all conventional, Zaeed."

"What's wrong with the classics?"

Shepard pinched her brow. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong with the classics. I'm just saying that-" She groaned and flopped her arms down at her sides. "Fuck it. You people have no appreciation for presentation or theatricality, you know that?"

Quarn adjusted his collar and clacked his mandibles against his cheeks. "That's not entirely accurate. If not for those two virtues, I'd be an absolute failure at what I do."

Ceres gave him a sidelong glance. "And what is it that you  _do,_ exactly?"

He laughed, the sound somehow disarming. "Please. That would be telling."

Shepard sighed and pulled off the tarp. The wall was covered in what was most likely the single largest collection of unorthodox weaponry Vasir had ever seen. A collapsable compound bow, heat knives, HEAT knives, the exploding variety, nerve gas canisters, an obscene amount of thermite, and biotic suppression equipment of literally every type of variety imaginable. Most interesting of all, though, was the slimmed down krogan warlord battlehammer mounted at the top of the wall.

A krogan warlord battlehammer. Adapted for human, and most likely asari, use. Vasir almost giggled.

"If you're wondering why the bow and arrow is there, it's because of one little simple fact," said Shepard, giddy. She poked Zaeed in the chest. "See? That got through his barrier because of the speed of my arm. That bow has kinetic dampers to  _ensure_ that it does not fire an arrow, with a monomolecularly sharpened head, fast enough to be deflected automatically by barriers." She folded her arms behind her back. "It is also, for all intents and purposes, a  _silent_ weapon. I've used it many times before, and if you aim for the neck, where the armor is typically the most thin, they'll go down. A great bonus is that you can just reuse the arrows." She picked one up out of the quiver and spun it around in her fingers. "This one alone has killed two krogan battlemasters and a YMIR mech. So who wants it?"

Quarn stepped forward. "A direct approach, I'm afraid, is beyond my capabilities. This, however, would compliment my work tremendously."

Shepard stared flatly at the turian. "You want it or not?"

"Yes."

Shepard handed it off to the turian. "There you go. There's spray paint in the cabinet over there if you want to use that Suns armor you have. Otherwise, I've got some personal kinetic barriers I can loan you. For your...tuxedo. Up to you."

Quan nodded. "Thank you."

"The hammer!" snapped Vasir, her urgency surprising even herself. "Who gets it?"

Shepard laughed. "You, obviously. I don't have the endurance to be able to use that thing effectively. Trust me, I've tried." She snatched it off of the wall and placed it on a nearby table. "Before we get to that, though, we need to deal with this...armor situation." She said, looking over Ceres and Vasir.

"And whose fault is that, I wonder?" sneered Vasir.

"Hey, we brought the pieces back! It's completely junked, but...well, it's better than someone finding it."

"True."

Ceres cleared her throat. "What do you have in  _stock_?" she said, teasingly.

Shepard bit her lip. "This is where things are going to be a little awkward. Ceres, I'm more than happy to let you use one of my back-up sets, since we're about the same build and shape." She looked over at Vasir with a nervous smile. "But, uh, you're going to get my... _old set._ " Shepard frowned intensely and sighed. "It's the only set I have that's adaptable to different figures. Hoping I'd never have to see it again, but we don't really have any other options."

Vasir raised a brow. "Why? What's so damn horrible about it?"

Without a word, Shepard dragged a beaten and faded footlocker out of it's place and slid it over to Vasir. She knelt down to inspect the markings and closed her eyes the moment she saw them. The Systems Alliance logo, and in big bright lettering: LIEUTENANT COMMANDER KAREN G. SHEPARD. Below it, an embossed N7 insignia. She covered her face with one hand and smashed her fist against the locker with the other.

"... _really_?" grumbled Vasir. "This explains  _so_ much."

"Doesn't it, though?"

-(|)-

Shepard hauled her armor case over her shoulder and marched out of the armory, ignoring the confused questioning that followed her. She walked down the hall and entered her room, locking the door behind her. She disrobed, she wasn't going to do that in front of others unless absolutely necessary, slipped on her undersuit, and then began the delicate practice of assembling her armor. At that point, it may as well have been custom.

Initially, the moment she'd saved up enough credits to ditch her N7 armor for good, she'd bought the best 'medium' Hahne-Kedar model she could find, and for a time it served her well. Then she started getting ideas that were very much non-standard. Wrist mounted flamethrowers, mag-gloves, as well as mag-boots, a high voltage current in her gauntlets, forearm mounted rappel line cables, which weren't used for that, and even miniaturized shotguns placed just below the flamethrowers.

Those were just the first of many, many more ideas.

Most of those ideas didn't come to fruition on her Hahne-Kedar suit. The power supply simply couldn't accommodate all of that extra equipment all at once. Her pet project back in the armory could, it was retrofitted around the entire concept, but she had yet get the damn thing working at all. So, for the time being, Shepard had to settle for armaments that were a little more conventional.

She'd streamlined the design, making curves where there were edges, and had it repainted black and and dark blue. It fit her perfectly, and the moment she sealed her breastplate into place, she felt at home. She wasn't defenseless, or weak, outside of her armor, but she couldn't deny she felt much more comfortable within it than otherwise.

She hoped one day that would no longer be true.

Before leaving her room, Shepard flicked on her small UV lamp and watered the grass lily she'd been trying to grow for the past few months. It was always half dead, and she doubt she could afford to buy another one if it died. Importing specific plants from Earth, specifically to Omega, was not cheap.

Mindoir used to be filled with them because someone had actually managed to smuggle them in, despite the SA having incredibly strict restrictions on ecosystem development of garden worlds. Shepard really didn't care much about that, though. She just thought they were beautiful.

"Hang in there, little guy," she whispered.

Shepard returned to the armory and was glad to see that everyone had already armed themselves more than adequately. At the moment, they were all focused on Vasir practicing, carefully, with the hammer in the common area.

Shepard smirked. It was good that someone got some use out of that thing. She walked over to the back wall and, now nearly on automatic, gathered her gear.

Multiple heat knives, much like the ones she'd beaten Vasir with a few days earlier, lined her suit. One below each wrist, one above her heart, and two at her hips. The rappel lines, mag-gloves, and even the high voltage current had managed to squeeze their way into her arsenal as well. Other that, she had her M-11 Wraith, her trusty M-6 Carnifex, loaded with explosive rounds and a proximity safety, and a perfectly maintained Phaeston. Extra thermal clips were everywhere. Biotic suppression gear, ranging from 'boomerangs' to collars and nets, were locked onto her belt. Last, but certainly not least, she had her plethora of explosives. Thermite and remote detonated explosives, along with disk grenades, were slung over her bandoleer.

There was no telling as to what they'd be facing out in the badlands of Omega, so she prepared for war. Which, sad as it was, was something she was  _very_ good at.

Shepard cracked knuckles and went to join the others. Working  _with_  Vasir, as opposed to against her, was going to be very interesting. With so much on the line, she was grateful that Vasir was in charge.

If Shepard was, by some random act of God, she'd have no fucking clue what to do.

Which did not inspire confidence in her.

"How's the hammer suiting you, Vasir?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Vasir moved with grace and elegance, almost dancing, as she made faint biotic trails with each end of the hammer. She spun it between her hands and held it beside her as one would a staff. "The craftsmanship is...amazing. I'd heard that these ancient weapons were works of art, but I never imagined how true those rumors would be. It's not gonna be quiet, though, that's for sure."

Miranda fiddled with her omni-tool, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She was still in her armor, of course. "Then I wouldn't use it, if I were you. It will only attract the red vorcha."

Shepard screwed up her face. "Right. Yes. That would be bad. Unless we can lure them to attack something  _for_ us…" She shrugged and reached into her pack, picking out water, her pills, and a protein bar. She shoved it all down her throat. "We'd need to test that before actually attempting to use it strategically," she said, mouth full of food.

"Chew, swallow, then speak," said Ceres, now donning a her spare, and far less advanced, suit of armor. Slung on her back was one of the Harrier rifles, and at her hip was a Shuriken. "Didn't your parents ever teach that it's impolite to speak with your mouth full?"

"My parents are dead."

"Oh. I'm sorry for your loss."

Vasir slung the hammer over her shoulder and looked them all over. "Okay. Let's move out. We're not taking the Barracuda, that's my call. Why? Because it's loud and will only attract the red vorcha." She tapped her omni-tool. "Keep in radio contact, and routinely check whatever passes for a seismometer on this thing. If tremors move up in magnitude, you  _run._ Understood?"

Everyone nodded, except for Mordin who was working diligently at his workstation.

"Good. We all know what we have to do, and what's gonna happen if we fuck it up, so I'm not going to reiterate. But, if we do fuck up, and somehow make it out alive, I will personally boil your organs from the inside out."

Quarn scoffed. "Charming."

-(|)-

Doctor Inaara Ceres was none too thrilled to be working with Miranda again. Yes, she'd saved her life, and yes, she wasn't entirely dumb as a bag of rocks, but frankly, Inaara found her incredibly annoying and overwhelmingly needy. It was as if she needed to be praised for every good thing she did.

"So...where did you go to medical school?" asked the needy human, her rifle sweeping the barren street. She looked up to the rooftops and motioned for them to continue moving forward. "An old friend of mine was considering the University of Serrice, but she ended up on...the Citadel, I think. It wasn't a human world, that much I remember."

Inaara shrugged and checked her omni-tool. Their targets were, thankfully, the closest to the bunker, so she wouldn't have to make that much small talk on the way. "Serrice, actually. I did my residency in one of the hospitals that the geth blew up, so you've probably never heard of it. It's a real shame, though. Very nice architecture for a hospital."

Miranda hummed and sprinted across the next intersection. She ducked down behind a dead skycar and pressed her back against the wall of a partially caved in building. "I'll bet. A good deal of the Citadel truly is beautiful. I've only been once." She sighed. "Hopefully I can again."

Inaara closed the distance between her and Miranda, crooking her lips to the side. "I liked you better when you were an overconfident kid who didn't know her place. Now, all you are is a depressing young woman with incredibly poor taste in partners"

Miranda huffed and turned to her. "Really? After  _one_ comment of self doubt, I'm suddenly depressing? I'm beginning to think you just really don't like humans." She furrowed her brow. "Wait, what did you mean by  _partners_?"

"Sexual partners."

"Your point?"

Inaara rolled her eyes and continued along their preset path. Not much further now. "Well, from what I  _didn't_ hear, Shepard is quite the opposite of a generous lover."

Miranda bristled and stomped along with her, holding her rifle tighter and checking the rooftops once more. "Shut. Up. How do you even  _know_ about that?"

"I didn't. I just made a guess, and apparently I was right," she laughed. "Goddess, you're clearly an adult, by your standards, and yet you're still so emotionally vulnerable. Pull yourself together,  _Lawson."_

Inaara didn't like playing psychologist, and that wasn't entirely because it was extremely illegal for her to practice that without a license. No, it was mostly because she much preferred the quantitative to the qualitative. In surgery, there were only so many ways to fix a problem. In life, a person's mind, there were an infinite number of things one had to consider before attempting to fix a brain. But, when she was bored, or with people she didn't really have anything interesting to talk about with, she just resorted to picking their brains.

Sometimes it was fun. Sometimes it ended in tears, which wasn't fun. Hopefully, Miranda wasn't as big of an emotionally stunted wreck as she thought. That wouldn't be fun. Then, of course, there were the times when it was actually necessary, and someone truly did need to vent their inner turmoil. Since Inaara rarely cared about the problems of the people she wasn't currently operating on, or would be soon, it never really fazed her.

Miranda grumbled something incoherent and kept on walking.

"Must have a lot of pent of frustration right now, eh? I know that feeling. Hanar don't do it for me, by damned if I didn't fall in love with one when I was younger. Not as young as  _you,_ of course, that's just wrong, but still-"

"Doctor. Please stop talking."

"Oh? Am I making you uncomfortable?  _Again?_ I'm sorry, I really am. It's just that I'm a little frustrated, too." She frowned. "All but  _one_ of my patients are dead, and I watched the murder of some of my closest friends literally yesterday. In fact, you  _watched_ that, too."

"I  _didn't_ just stand and watch," she growled. "I waited for an-I saved your life, damnit! Both of yours!"

"You could have been faster."

Miranda scowled and stomped forward, her white armor blanketed in the vomit orange and brown of Omega's unnatural light. "Let's just keep moving you jaded, perverted, invasive…" She grunted, trailing off.

Ceres smirked. There it was. "No. Say it. I know you want to say it. You're just  _dying_ to call me that."

Miranda punched an actual hole in the wall beside her. "Fine," she seethed. "You're a filthy, arrogant, pretentious, elitist, blue  _slut!_ In fact, all of you people are! You walk around with your  _genetic elegance_ and your objective perfection, rubbing it all in everyone's faces, because, oh of course the asari can be with anyone!" she raged, her voice rising well above what was safe at the moment. "They can have children with a  _fucking sentient tree_ if they wanted to! They're all biotics! They live a thousand years and are the best at everything, didn't you hear, Miranda?! Didn't you hear that  _your life is automatically meaningless because the asari have already perfected literally everything you put your stupid, inferior mind to!"_ Miranda biotically flipped a car across the street with a roar. "Fuck your planet. Fuck your culture. Fuck your race. Fuck your perfection. I hope the red vorcha devour your daughters whole right in front of you."

Ceres stared at her blankly for a moment, processing all of the pent up rage and resentment Miranda had just launched at her in truly dramatic fashion. "Hm." She slung her rifle and wrapped Miranda in a tight hug. "Goddess, you  _really_ needed that, kid." She rubbed her back. "Feel better?"

Miranda's shoulders slacked as she returned the hug, and Ceres could actually feel the stress drain from her body. "I do. Yes. Very much." She let go and wiped her red eyes. "Thanks. I didn't know you practiced psychology."

Ceres shrugged and continued walking. "I don't. You're just fun to work up because you fluster so easily, and otherwise I'd be bored. We don't really have much to talk about."

Miranda grumbled and followed her. "Well, fine. I feel better. That's all that matters."

"Self centered."

"Will you please shut up?"

" _Doctor Ceres! Lawson! Have relevant in-"_

"Miranda is fine."

" _Don't interrupt. Relevant intelligence. Realized that first target is old STG safe house. Could possibly still be in use."_

"How would you even know that?" Miranda raised a brow. "And why would the STG be here?"

As they passed by an open, dilapidated apartment building, two long, high tensile strength wires shout out of the darkened interior and lashed their away around the duo, binding them instantly. Before they could even attempt to struggle, they were pulled inside and the door slid shut behind them. Ceres looked up to see a small group of salarians, dark eyes firmly centered on her.

One of them, with greenish skin that transitioned to a light yellow around the jaw, spoke. "A better question is why  _wouldn't_ we be here?""

Ceres scowled. "Yeah, STG alright. Good job, Doctor Solus."

" _Really? External speakers."_

"Doctor Solus? As in  _Mordin_ Solus?" asked the green salarian.

Ceres wasn't sure how Mordin was activating her omni-tool's speakers, but she decided not to question it. " _This is Mordin Solus, whom am I speaking too?_ "

"Hah! I don't believe it. It's Major Kirrahe!"

" _Major Kirrahe? Don't know anyone by that name and rank."_

Kirrahe scoffed. "I got promoted, Mordin."

" _Impossible. Speeches terrible, dalatrass must have demoted you without realizing it."_

Kirrahe flattened his lips into a thin line. "Is there a particular reason as to why your associates are investigating the area, or do we have to shoot them on sight?"

" _Ah! Yes, very important. Attempting to find mad prophet broadcast center! Threat level Lusia."_

Kirrahe blinked and looked between his comrades. "Confirm last."

" _Threat level Lusia."_

The room went silent.

Miranda fidgeted in her bindings. "What the hell is threat level Lusia?"

Kirrahe sighed. "It means that we're under a clear and present threat of another krogan uprising. Which can only mean one thing.  _Someone_ found a cure."

" _Outline! Rough concept-"_

"No, not now, Mordin." Kirrahe shook his head. "Rentola, release these two. I'm sure they have a lot to say on the matter, and how they mean to stop it."

" _Hm. New, superior approach now possible. Will inform others."_

The salarian known as Rentola untied her bindings and Ceres got her feet. Miranda did the same, grumbling something about operational security.

Kirrahe motioned for them to follow him. "So. Why don't you two start from the beginning."

Miranda bowed her head. "Not again…"

-(|)-

Vasir lept from the rooftop to another across the street with Shepard following close behind. Instead of running around on the ground, where they were the most vulnerable, they decided to reenact their first encounter. Without all of the fighting, of course.

"You know, I've missed this. Urban warfare," said Shepard as she rolled to her feet. "Open fields are nice and all, and don't get me wrong, the kind of shit you can pull with biotics when you've got actual dirt beneath your feet is damned effective, but when you're in the city…" She peaked over the side of the building, rifle sighted. "...you've just got so many more options."

Vasir snickered. "Don't you  _live_ here? How could you miss urban warfare if you're living it?"

Shepard shook her head as she cleared the next building, elegantly sliding into the hallway of an apartment building through the open window. It was chastely decorated, and showed many, many signs of looting. Otherwise, though, the structure appeared stable. "Well, most of my jobs aren't  _on_ Omega, actually. Bounty hunting, ground wars, assassinations, that kind of thing, mostly takes place in rural areas, or space stations, or on actual ships. It's rare I actually get to  _move_ like this."

Vasir landed gracefully behind her. "Hah. I'd never thought about it like that. I can't say I prefer one kind of environment over another, but...well, no that's not true. If I had to choose a favorite, I'd say jungle."

Shepard motioned for her to wait to do her little sonar pulse trick, which Vasir was determined in getting out of her before this was over. She gave the all clear, and they continued forward. "Jungle! Ugh, I've  _always_ wanted to do that one. Thick forests, darkness, green and wildlife everywhere. A challenge, but also beautiful."

Vasir smiled slightly. It was rare she met someone who actually understood that. She started sprinting up the stairs, three at a time, heading toward the roof. "Exactly. Just because it's war, doesn't mean it has to be ugly. Well, the  _environment,_ at least."

Shepard followed behind her. "Mhmm. Done a lot of work in the jungle, I presume?"

"No, actually. Very little. I grew up in one, though." Vasir kicked the door to the roof open and sprinted outside, sweeping her rifle over the windows around them. Everyone was hiding or bunkering down. Block after block, no signs of life or activity. Humans called it 'No Man's Land' for a reason, she supposed. "Harsh climate. Atmosphere has too much oxygen to breath normally, so it's toxic. Which also makes explosives quite a bit more potent. The wildlife, don't even get me started. If you think krogan are big, half of the shit on Niacal could swallow one whole."

Shepard opened her omni-tool and showed Vasir the map. They were about halfway to their target, and just about to enter Eclipse territory. "Humble beginnings, huh? That makes two of us. I grew up on a farm."

Vasir laughed. "You can't be serious!"

"No, really! Crop rotation, soil toxicity-look, I know everything you need to know about maintaining and running a family-sized farm. I could buy a shitty plot of land on any garden world and be making a profit in just under a year."

"That's really not impressive."

"It is if you're a farmer."

"Okay, I believe you, but you just really don't seem the type. I honestly had you pegged as a reformed felon. Execution, or join the military. Clawed your way up from nothing to become the best, but then you fucked up and ended up here."

Shepard looked at her as if she had just told her she was giving birth to a thresher maw. "That is the single stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Vasir shrugged. "I just think it seems more plausible than 'I grew up on a farm'."

"You grew up in a  _jungle._ "

"Yeah, but, I'm an asari. We're everywhere. You guys are new."

"Your balaclava looks stupid on you."

"Street rat."

Shepard rolled her eyes intensely. "You know what? Let's just drop it, okay?" She sighed. "We should probably travel from interior to interior from now on. That way we can try and catch some Eclipse sentries by surprise."

Vasir chuckled and decided to do as she asked. "Good idea. Okay, see those two buildings?" She pointed to two nearly identical high rises. One looked a bit more like a mall than the other, though. "That's the border for Eclipse. I can't see any guards or sentries through the windows, so they're either waiting for us to move, or they're further in and facing the interior of their territory."

Shepard furrowed her brow and looked between the buildings. "We'll need a distraction. Sounding the alarm on Eclipse is...bad."

Vasir nodded a few times. "I have a feeling this hammer would be more effective on the ground, so...do you have anything with explosive rounds?"

Shepard drew her pistol and flicked a secondary safety on and off. "Proximity safety, so I don't blow myself up. You want to cause a big enough boom that the red vorcha come running and give us time to move through the area unnoticed, right?"

"Exactly. Might as well test that theory now. There's a crashed tanker in the alleyway that hasn't been breached."

Shepard sighted the tanker. "They'll see us as soon as I shoot."

"Not if I take us down a floor the moment you fire."

Shepard gave her a sidelong glance and nodded. "Okay." She grounded her feet. "Ready when you are."

Vasir placed her hand on Shepard's shoulder and reached out with her biotics, grabbing hold of the floor beneath them. "Go."

Shepard fired, and no sooner did the ground beneath them evaporate. They fell to the ground, safely hidden from view, landing on their sides. A massive, ear shattering explosion knocked them backward, causing the entire building to creak and shudder. Shepard struggled to her feet, dragging Vasir up with her, as several more blasts echoes off in the distance.

"I think I blew up something a little more than just that tanker," chuckled Shepard.

The building creaked, shuddered and groaned. Vasir bit her lip. "It's going to come down, we need to jump to the next one and move. Fast."

Shepard nodded and charged back up to the roof. Vasir followed her. The duo launched themselves to an adjacent building and rolled to their feet. Shepard stopped in her tracks as she saw something particularly horrifying.

Vasir grabbed her arm, but then she saw it too. Below the buildings that Shepard had very gloriously exploded was a whirlpool made of steel, meat and red vorcha. It consumed the entire foundation of the two high rises as it they sunk into the ground. "Goddess…"

Shepard holstered her pistol and narrowed her eyes. "Look. Five more over there are going down," she said, pointing deep into Eclipse territory. "I think we may have fucked up. Again."

Vasir frowned. "Yeah, well, less Eclipse is always good. Wait…" She checked her map and looked back at the crumbling buildings. "...okay, the third one from the right over there was our target. Check the frequency."

Shepard nodded and tuned her omni-tool.

" _-bright, pure light of annihilation will be upon us!"_

She shut off her omni-tool. "Yeah, that wasn't it."

Vasir sighed. "At least there's that." She squinted at a bright blue speck of light igniting in the distance. "...what the hell is that?" The light only got brighter as it surged, flickered and then became almost blinding. Vasir covered her eyes with her forearm. "Are you seeing this?"

Shepard was shielding her eyes as well. "Yeah. It's not just you. Jesus, did I hit a gas main or something-"

-(|)-

Aria stared wide eyed at her display of Omega. Ten square blocks of Eclipse territory, centered around the border, had just covered itself in a thousand eezo spikes larger than a frigate's drive core, and then suddenly vanished. She rubbed her eyes with her wrist and shook her head.

"I  _really_ need to get these damn sensors fixed…"

-(|)-

"-because what the hell is that?" grunted Shepard, grounding her feet into the floor. Something had gone very, very wrong, but she wasn't sure exactly what that was. Yet. She'd know in the next few seconds, she assumed.

She was right.

The light exploded in magnificent fashion, scarring the sky blue and uprooting city block after city block with overwhelming force. The shockwave was visible. A dome of white energy approached them at a staggering rate. The ground beneath them shattered and crushed inward on itself.

Shepard and Vasir ran as fast as they possibly could in the other direction. No words were needed. Charging and leaping from rooftop to rooftop, but to no avail. The energy was just too fast. When it caught up to them, Shepard tried grounding herself into the floor on bended knee, but only that only held for a few more seconds than Vasir. She was sent hurtling off of the roof, Vasir already several floors below her.

Thinking quickly, and half blinded by the light, Shepard shot her rappel cables at Vasir, wrapping them around her waist while launching the other set up toward, what she hoped, was a wall and not an empty window. She had Vasir, and waited a heartbeat. Her second cable struck air. She cursed and attempted to lower her mass, and Vasir's, but she couldn't. The white light was overwhelming her biotics.

And just when she thought all was lost, she felt something tug on her second cable. Suddenly, she stopped falling, and her arm strained to support Vasir's weight. She retracted her second cable, sending the both of them hurtling upward toward whatever had caught them. She flew through a window, Vasir close behind her and rolled to a stop.

Shepard groaned and looked up to see what her cable had attached itself too. What she found was a myth. Someone who wasn't supposed to exist. A heavily armored turian in blue, golden eagle on both arms, the cable wrapped firmly around his waist, stared back at her.

"I think this is the part where you thank me for my act of good samaritanism, but then, I'm not really an expert on human culture," teased the turian, his head tilted curiously. No helmet. He'd figured enough about the red vorcha to know he couldn't wear one.

"Th-thank you." Shepard's jaw dropped. The resemblance was too uncanny to be a coincidence. "You...you're Archangel, aren't you? Aria said you were a myth. Something the people cooked up to...give them false hope." She retracted her cable, freeing him from her grasp.

"Oh, I'm sure she wishes that were true, but I have a feeling you're pretty happy it isn't right now." He rolled his shoulders laxly. "Clever cable design, by the way. I expected the magnetism, but not the reversal. Compressed air to fire and hydraulics to retract, right?

Shepard laughed nervously and shakily got to her feet. "Wow. Yeah, that's spot on." She moved to help Vasir up. "Thank you, really."

Vasir nodded at the turian. "Yes, you have our thanks, because once again…" She turned to Shepard. "You nearly inadvertently got me killed. Good job. Gonna for three?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Oh, fuck off."

The turian narrowed his eyes at them, taking a few steps closer. "You know, it's not every day that you see asari in N7 armor. Or wearing...whatever that torn up thing is on your face."

Vasir palmed her face and her eyes widened. "Oh, shit."

Shepard paled as it hit her. Vasir had fallen on her face when they had been pulled back up into the building. The balaclava was torn and her face was clearly visible. "Fuck…" She turned to glare at the turian. "You didn't see anything."

The turian tilted his head. "No. I did. I just saved a spectre's life, again. For around...the two hundredth time?"

"Stop bluffing. It's embarrassing." Vasir narrowed her eyes at him and scoffed. "Wait, I know you. You're that crazy detective who ran off to chase Saren with Kryik!" she laughed.

Shepard looked between them both. "He's...what? I never got around to seeing Citadel, so I don't really know what happened there."

"Well, big news for you, then. The geth attacked the Citadel-"

"No, I  _know that part_! I meant the specifics!"

"Well, I got the kill shot on Saren." The turian chuckled. "There were  _a lot_ of other things that happened before that, but they're not that important."

Vasir snickered. "Kyrik mentioned that, actually. He was pretty pissed at you."

The turian shrugged. "Oh, that's just his way."

"No, not really. I've worked with him before. You're just a pain in his ass," she smiled. "Which means you and I are gonna get along just fine."

Shepard raised a brow. "Wait, what? You're not going to kill him?"

"Of course I'm not. Garrus Vakarian is a galactic hero. And were you not listening? He  _killed Saren Arterius._  I know that's a bit above your pay grade, but he was the best. I don't say that lightly."

The turian cleared his throat. "Do I get a say in...whatever it is you're doing,  _Vasir?_ "

"You've seen my face. Refuse and I kill you."

"Yeah…that sounds about right."

" _Shepard! Vasir! New plan of approach!"_

Shepard tapped her ear piece. "Is it a good one?"

" _Yes, much better. Miranda and Ceres ran into old STG contacts. Willing to help! Suggest gathering forces, forming alliances against red vorcha threat, and assault on Omega's defense systems."_

Vasir looked at Shepard and nodded. "If it's possible, we'll do it. We probably won't be able to get Eclipse, though. Their entire border just sort of...exploded."

" _Not surprising. Volatile group. Still, save time. Need you to go back to clinic! Require more surgical tools for...surgery. Doctor-Patient confidentiality."_

Vasir rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We're on our way. Oh, and we picked up Archangel. So there's that."

" _Excellent! Vigilante should be of great assistance."_

Vasir broke out into loud, raucous laughter. " _Vigilante_?! On Omega? Are you fucking insane? Oh, this is just, too good. Way too good." She clutched her stomach and motioned for them to follow. "Goddess, you really are crazy. C'mon, we're going to the Gozu Clinic to pick up some random surgical instruments for our insane salarian doctor to use on some random pet project involving Shepard here." Vasir put on her spare balaclava, hiding her face once again.

Shepard frowned and followed Vasir. She looked up at Garrus. "For the record, I don't think it's  _entirely_ crazy. Just...sort of crazy."

Garrus shrugged. "Well, that makes one of us."

"Why were you even here, anyway? Not that I'm complaining."

"Scouting Eclipse movements and activities, which is now pretty much pointless because everything just exploded."

"Right."

-(|)-

Zaeed laughed like a maniac as he literally burned his way through the pitiful defenses the Blue Suns had set before him. The firestorm was one of his favorite weapons. It made everything burn. Everything. Fucking  _everything._

He reloaded the flamethrower with a fresh canister of napalm slurry as no less than a dozen bodies burned and writhed around him, screaming for mercy and death. Zaeed was not exactly the person to ask about that.

Quarn had wanted to sneak into their lines and sabotage everything before the Suns could even put up a fight. Zaeed thought that was an utterly stupid idea. Why should he fight defenseless soldiers? There wasn't any fun in that. It was just boring and stupid.

Still, that barefaced idiot had gone and made himself a shadow, with the odd arrow-in-throat Blue Sun popping up on Zaeed's battleground. More than a few of their battlements were already disabled by time he'd gotten to them, too. He wasn't angry at Quarn, not exactly, but he would've appreciated it if he stayed out of his way. Just for this one battle, though. Just this one.

Zaeed blew open a door, and an entire wall, with a well placed grenade launcher shot, incinerating several mercs inside of the room. He whipped out his assault rifle, his eternal Jessie, and began mowing down the 'top ranks' of the Blue Suns, their heads popping off like bubble wrap.

It took him maybe five minutes to hack, slash, incinerate, and gun down his way to the inner sanctum of the base. He kicked down the door and found the man he'd been searching over twenty years for.

Vido Santiago. Hiding behind his desk, detonator in his hand. The entire room lined with explosives. "Zaeed Massani. Did you come all the way here so I can put you down like the mad dog you are?" he said, grinning as twirled the detonator in his hands. "You make one move, and I'll blow us both straight to hell, Zaeed! Don't test me!"

Zaeed scoffed and began walking over to him. "Nah. You won't do that. You're too much of a goddamn coward."

"Don't test me, Zaeed!"

"Vido. Look at me." He gestured to himself, and the Firestorm he was currently loading. "I came in here guns blazing, and I have not been hit  _once._ Not goddamn once. Not even a near miss. Not even a  _graze_. I coulda turned off my kinetic barrier, walked in here with a steak knife, and slaughtered all of you with my eyes closed, and it wouldn't have made  _any_ fucking difference." He smashed the desk with his boot. "So, tell me, you fucking traitor. Do you really believe that all of those fancy bombs will kill me? You shot me in the face, and that didn't do it. You marooned me, with no water or food, and that didn't do it either. I've fought off red vorcha, dozens of battlemasters, the best the hierarchy has to offer, and you think that  _a bunch of fucking bombs_ is going to be the thing to do me in?!"

"Zaeed!" cried Vido, tears running down his puffy cheeks as he shivered in his seat. "Please, for the love of God, don't kill me! I'll do anything! I'll give you control of the Suns! I'll give you  _everything,_ just please don't kill me!"

Zaeed scratched his chin. "Okay. Yeah. I want the Suns and one other thing. All you've gotta do is one other thing for me. That's it."

"They're yours! What's the other thing? I'll do anything, just tell me what to do."

Zaeed grinned. " _Burn, you sonuvabitch."_  He emptied the Firestorm's entire tank, two full gallons of napalm, directly into Vido's face. The man shrieked and writhed in pain and began running around the room. Vido dropped the Firestorm and drew Jessie. He rushed the man and crushed the rifle butt against his skull, caving it in completely.

Vido was dead. Zaeed smiled.

" _Zaeed! Possible new approach!"_

Zaeed raised a brow and poked his ear piece. "Yeah, what do you mean? Like, assaulting the Suns, 'cause I already finished that."

" _Impressive."_

"Thanks. Probably some of my best work, honestly," he whistled, basking in the sheer carnage he had wrought.

" _New approach on red vorcha threat and assault on Aria's defenses! Form alliances! Ceres and Miranda already found old STG contacts! Vasir and Shepard apparently found Archangel."_

"No shit? Archangel? Thought he was a myth. Well, what if I told you that, as of a minute ago, I now own the Blue Suns?"

" _Excellent! Can take it from here, yes?"_

"Yeah, I've got this." He turned toward the shattered doorway. "TARAK!" he screamed.

A barrel chested batarian wearing heavy Suns armor came sprinting in the room. "Zaeed! What-"

"I'm in charge."

Tarak looked over at the dead body of Vido and nodded. "Yeah. I really don't have a problem with that. He was an ass."

"Heh. Okay, until I get back, here's your orders. Minimize casualties, and see if you can't scrounge up some better equipment for the men. Also, send me all the information you can on the best soldiers we have on the station. Clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Great. Bareface, get the knife away from his throat."

The stupid turian materialized behind Tarak, his knife very much next to the batarian's throat. He sheathed it and nodded. "A simple precaution."

Tarak sprinted out of the room. He looked like a dumbass.

The barefaced turian looked up at the ceiling, at all the blinking bombs. "How did you know I disabled the explosives?"

"I didn't."

The turian nodded. "I'm honored that you trust me-"

Zaeed laughed. "No, no, no stupid, that's not what I meant. I didn't think  _anyone_ was disabling those bombs because I thought they were armed, and were gonna stay that way. Vido was a fucking coward." He kicked the dead body. Hard. "He never even  _tried_ to press the button."

"I suppose I can't fault that logic…"

"Goddamn right you can't."

-(|)-

Sederis fell to one knee, breathing heavily. Her body was covered in flop sweat, and her eyes were flickering wildly. Her unbalanced eyes flicked across the obliteration she had wrought. It was the only thing she could to trim the tide of the red vorcha against her people.

Somehow, a tanker had exploded on her border, and ignited a chain reaction which had decimated several of her encampments. It was only  _seconds_ later that the red vorcha had arrived and began consuming entire buildings. They were no longer hungry for flesh. They wanted destruction, so she had given it to them.

It was not the first time she had been forced to unleash such devastating biotic power, but hopefully it would be the last. Scorched earth was not something she liked, as it made her feel incredibly sick and weakened. She'd mostly have to feed, in both terms, almost constantly for the next few hours just so she wouldn't pass out from exhaustion.

Sederis gasped for breath as she wobbly got to her feet, nearly stumbling over herself. She clicked on her comm. "Jaroth. Southern border has been cleansed," she said, softly. "The red vorcha are becoming more aggressive. We may have to consider taking up Aria's offer for our own survival."

" _Understood. How are you faring?"_

"I'll be alright. I'll need tribute and  _lots_ of varren kebabs, but I'll be fine in a few hours." She panted. "Goddess. Have you found her or the broadcast center? Any leads?"

" _No leads on the target or the center, ma'am. We'll keep working on it. Our techs have a few new ideas, so hopefully that will lead to something."_

Sederis slowly walked over to a piece of debris shaped like a bench. She sat down on it, still breathing heavy. "Good. That's something. Update me if any progress is made."

" _Will do."_

Sederis shut off her comm and buried her head in her hands. "Why are you making this so difficult for me, Vasir?" Her eyes flickered, and then stabilized back to white. "I just want to see you safe."

-(|)-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck yeah, Garrus! He was not even supposed to be in this chapter, but he just snuck his way in. Seriously. I mean, he was gonna be here later, but hey, guess he couldn't wait to get in on the action.
> 
> Yes. That's some Lin Bei Fong badassery right there, in case you weren't sure.
> 
> For those that are curious, the reason that Vasir, Shepard and Garrus weren't killed by the blast was because they were on the fringe of the actual area of effect. They just got hit by the shockwave itself, not the biotic-kills-everything-energy. The energy was still overwhelming enough to cancel out whatever biotics Shepard or Vasir, though.
> 
> There's a friendly jab at a certain author in here that most of you hopefully caught. Let me know if you did.
> 
> Oh, and 'Lusia' was actually the first colony annexed by the krogan in canon. So yeah, shit just got real on a GALACTIC level.
> 
> Comments and thoughts are always appreciated, no matter how scathing or minor! :D


	7. Title Drop and Author's Notes

**DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT A FULL CHAPTER. MORE DETAILS AFTER EXCERPT.**

**General Eva Coré is voiced by Mindy Sterling, because that is exactly the kind of hardass Cerberus needs to keep everyone in line.**

* * *

General Eva Coré was not happy. She sat in her office, her teeth chomping down on her cigar so brutally that she nearly bit clean through it. After over twenty years in the Systems Alliance, one would think that she'd have gotten used to the internal competitive bullshit that went on between the higher ranking officers. In actuality, it only made her bitter and less tolerant of it. It wasted time. She did not like wasting time.

Her office wasn't lavish, but it wasn't quite spartan either. Hardwood desk, cushy chair, decent carpeting, lots of awards, an honorary doctorate in Military History from the University of Chicago, a large window overlooking the docks, a liquor cabinet that was absolutely better stocked than that chickenshit Anderson's poor excuse for a bar, and obviously the intimidating coat of arms around her handcrafted sculpture of her organization's sigil. The swords weren't fake, she'd made sure of that every few months by sharpening them by hand and giving the less than hardened staff on her side of Arcturus a run for their money. Always fun to watch the naive squirm about as schema after schema were ripped from their minds and torn to shreds.

Coré had pride in what was essentially her home. It was her space. Personalized, violent and powerful. It was a part of her. So when someone had the audacity and sheer lack of mental faculties to not just insinuate, but  _declare,_ that hers was objectively inferior, Coré could only scowl and plot.

That bitch didn't know who she was dealing with. She didn't fight her way from Shanxi to Palaven, watch her two best friends die, and  _properly_ begin serving humanity just so she could be fucked with by a shitsipping child.

Apparently, Coré had the  _second_ nicest office on Arcturus. That was a fact which she had been frequently and incessantly reminded of by that street rat of a major several floors up. She wasn't sure whose cock and/or snatch that thug of a woman serviced a few thousand times to get a  _jacuzzi_ in her office, but it must have been some pansy ass politician with more pull than balls, and apparently the ironic inability to pull at his own balls. Lazy fucker.

So there she sat, Alliance dress blues, fading blonde hair tied into a ponytail and hardened blue eyes glaring twenty years of revenge on an invitation.

An invitation to a  _jacuzzi_ party.

Coré had to wonder if her life was going to be composed entirely of shit like that from then on. She used her cigar to burn part of the datapad, singeing the otherwise nicely put together invitation, in place of a thumb print. Fuck those people. She had a goddamn black ops group to command.

Namely, Cerberus. Humanity's answer to ensuring the light in the dark never grew too bright, lest it shine on all of the bullshit war crimes they'd been pulling for as long as she could remember.

Where the Hierarchy had its Blackwatch, the salarians the STG, the batarians their SIU, and the asari...Coré wasn't quite sure, or at least hadn't been fully briefed, exactly how many black ops factions existed inside the Asari Republics. She supposed it would be unrealistic to assume every colony had one-why would they? It wasn't cost effective on smaller colonies, not to mention the fact that you couldn't just enlist any slack jawed idiot.

Her terminal chirped, followed by the voice of her secretary. " _General Coré, there's a David Anderson here to see you. I don't believe he has an appointment_."

Coré scoffed and tapped loose ashes out of her cigar, the burnt flecks falling safely into their tray. "Send himin," she said, speaking a little bit more menacingly into the microphone than was strictly necessary. Talks with Anderson had always been a treat, even though that was mostly because she, more often than not, got to put him in his place for all of his various fuck ups over the years. Most of which Cerberus was  _still_ cleaning up.

The man himself entered her office, his stern eyes meeting her own the moment he crossed the threshold. It was odd to see him in anything besides dress blues, but there he was, in slacks and a jacket. She had to admit that he looked rather sharp.

The door locked behind him. "General," he said, firing off a quick salute.

"David," she said, giving him a small sneer. She didn't return the gesture. He was  _retired_ , after all. Well, that's what the official record had been saying, but she knew better. It was her job to. "The mop and slop bucket are down the hall, third door on your left. It's labeled 'Sanitation'."

Anderson raised a brow. "I'm sorry? I don't understan-"

"Neither do I, David. I really don't understand why you continue this sad delusion of yours. Cerberus is not your  _personal laundromat._ We don't clean up stains. We clean up oil spills." She huffed and leaned over her desk, setting her jaw. "It is a goddamn miracle Shastri and Udina have their dicks so far up your ass that you may as well be applying for a polygamy permit, because that's the only thing standing in my way of telling you to go fuck yourself in the context of me refusing to help you." She puffed on her cigar, narrowing her eyes further.

"It's good to see you, too. How have you been?" he said cheerily. Cheery didn't work. It never worked.

"Go fuck yourself. In every other context. Here you are,  _again,_ about to ask me if I can clean up more of your bullshit. Make it all go away just like that." She snapped her fingers. "Sit your ass down, and tell me what you want," she said, jabbing her fingers at one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Anderson scowled and did as he was told. She couldn't say no to his requests for help, but she still outranked him. He unbuttoned his jacket as he sat. "I want you to call off Operation Cabaret-"

"Ugh, I know. The name is horrible. I suggested Overlord, considering, but they wanted something less...remarkable. Either that or they wanted to save that one for something bigger. I can ask them again, even though it's a total waste of my time."

"No, not the name! Call it off. Please. We can still salvage the situation. I know we can."

Coré stared at him for a long time. It had to be a joke, but then, Anderson didn't make jokes. He wasn't funny. He'd never been funny. "Are you out of your goddamn mind, David?" she asked honestly. "Not only is the source of the problem  _entirely your fault_ , but now you're asking me to just look the other way? Even after she very nearly snapped your spine in half? I don't know what kind of redemption you're looking for, David, but allow me to let you in on a little secret." She unlocked a drawer of her desk and went through her files, retrieving a non-descript datapad. "It doesn't fucking exist. This is an executive order from Shastri himself  _ordering_ me to go forward with Cabaret. Udina and the Admiralty Board, with a fucking landmark unanimous vote, also authorized me to conduct this operation to the fullest extent of my ability, my organization, and by any means necessary." She slid the datapad to him. "You'll also find the written and express approval of those spin doctors in PR, Admiral Hackett, and her former CO, a one rehabilitated  _Major Preston Kyle._ " She glared at him but broke into a mocking laugh. "Even brain-addled Kyle, Lion of Jabberwocks, can see exactly how detrimental it is for the SA and humanity at large if we  _don't_ follow through with Cabaret. And you're asking me to  _disobey that order?_ I would be executed on the spot." She took a long puff on her cigar. "Now unfortunately, for you and your little bitch of a 'daughter', no. I'm not calling it off." She sliced her hand toward the door. "So go fuck yourself."

Anderson held his ground. He didn't falter, and that impressed her. He just matched her glare, matched her intensity, and waited for her to finish. "She was just angry, Eva. If I had been in her shoes, I don't think I could have shown what little restraint she did."

Coré frowned. "What restraint?"

"I'm alive, aren't I? I made a full recovery. She didn't have to make that even remotely possible."

"I wouldn't call that restraint. You got lucky. She got angry and sloppy. She fought stupid."

Anderson sighed. "She had every right to be angry. You know that."

"Oh, believe me, I do know, because I'm  _still_ having to run interference on that shitshow you called a taskforce. Westerlund is actually still investigating your massive fuck up on Mindoir. They're like blood hounds, and the only reason they're still smelling any blood at all is because you can't move past it. I  _told_ you stealing a page out of the batarian's playbook was going to blow up in your face, but you idiots did it anyway." Coré shook her head and crushed her cigar into the tray. "Your little mistake beat you within an inch of your life, literally, and then ran off to go play pussywagon to little miss queen blue. I pushed for execution then, I'm sure you remember, especially since  _none of this shit would have happened if you had kept your goddamn mouth shut_!" She smashed her fist on her desk.

"You're sickening." Anderson got up from his seat, buttoned his jacket and looked down at her grimly. "You're going to sit there, silently, while a victim is murdered for a mistake that she had nothing to do with. I thought there was a chance you'd see reason, that perhaps you've changed after all these years. Maybe even understood her pain, or at least have the decency to let her live in relative freedom." He scoffed. "But you don't sympathize at all. I've already forgiven her, hell I dropped the charges against her, and I'll keep forgiving her until she actually gives me a reason not to. Good day, General."

As he walked back toward the door, Coré grinned. "I couldn't stop it now even if I wanted to, David. Hell, it's probably already done and we're just awaiting confirmation." She opened a fresh cigar from the box on her desk and lit it. "Face it, David. You fucked up. It's over. Unlike you, Agent Lawson doesn't fail."

Anderson stopped at the door. He looked over his shoulder, scowling. "No matter how good your Lawson may be, Karen is better." He opened her door. "And you know that." He slammed the door on his way out.

Coré stared at the door for a moment. She set her jaw and slapped her hand against her arm rest. Lawson had to succeed. Humanity had lost too much, wasted too much, for her not to. No spectre. No councilor. A bleeding and battered fleet. A fractured economy. Barely an Embassy, at the rate Udina was going. The Alliance needed a clean slate, and Lawson was going to deliver.

 _Miranda Lawson, first human spectre_  she thought.  _If that's not incentive, then I don't know what is._  She furrowed her brow. Where  _was_ Miranda, anyway?

 

* * *

 

"...and that's everything we know," said Miranda, closing her omni-tool and ending her briefing with the salarians. Hopefully. They'd had  _so many questions_. How did you know to play dead, Miranda? How were you there at just the right time? How long have you known you were a biotic? Can we have some of your blood for testing? Why do you continue to answer our questions in anger?

Oh, they knew damn well why she was doing that. She'd heard rumors, the General herself had even told her as such, that the STG never stopped asking questions. Or talking. Or arguing. Of course, Salarians had a habit of doing that, yet the STG was somehow able to make it seem remarkably worse.

Their compound was drab. It had walls, doors, and lots and lots of equipment. A certain disgraced Lieutenant Commander wasn't gracing her presence within said walls, so it was difficult for Miranda to show any form of patience with all of the  _questions._

"That was very informative. You've obviously given that kind of briefing before." Kirrahe looked her over, clinically of course, for around the three hundredth time. "Impressive power suit. Eezo endoskeleton laced into frame, correct? Heavier loads, lighter on your feet. Bit of a crutch. Easily disabled."

"I've run into very few problems with it," she lied through her teeth.

"Good to hear. Your techs must perform excellent maintenance on it. Only the best for  _the dog,_ correct?" said Kirrahe, his inflection changing only slightly. It wasn't an accusation, just one of acknowledgement.

It was at that moment that Miranda questioned the General's insistence to have their logo embossed onto every piece of equipment. She'd asked her to explain that once. The answer was less than ideal.

_To instill pants-shitting fear into the hearts of our enemies...is what I would say if I were a very crude and blunt speech writer. Not to mention lazy. Brand recognition is a pretty weak justification for black ops. ICT does it, and we're the next step past that. The answer, of course, is much simpler than you think. You die in blood, or you don't at all. It just so happens that Cerberus is the best way to bleed._

That still had yet to make sense to Miranda. Dying in blood? Her own blood, perhaps, though that was assumed. Struck down in battle? Obvious. There was something more to it, but she'd never been able to nail it down. Supposedly, it had been uttered, off the cuff, by Jon Grissom, on the day of the first ICT graduation. That was what the General had told her, of course. General Eva Coré could be trusted.

The STG? Not nearly as much.

Miranda raised a brow. "I don't own a dog. I've always wanted one, though. A half-burmese, half golden retriever. They have these white tufts of hair on their chests that is just  _so_ adorable and-"

Kirrahe tilted his head. "Oh, well that's quite the shame! I was hoping you did, because a neighbor of mine is  _very fond_ of dogs."

Miranda narrowed her eyes and stepped closer to Kirrahe, making sure that Ceres was well distracted with sharing her rather gruesome surgical anecdotes with a few of the other STG operatives. "Fine. What do you want?"

"That wasn't code, Agent Lawson. You have operatives a few buildings over. I thought it would be good of you to know that."

Miranda bit her lip and opened up her omni-tool map, the same one her and Ceres had been using to mark their next search targets. "Now, you're sure you have no idea where this broadcasting center is?"

"To my knowledge, you never actually asked me if I did or not."

Miranda blinked. She hadn't. Perhaps she needed a nap. "Oh. My mistake, Major. Do you have any idea where the broadcast center is?"

"No."

Miranda blistered and shoved her map in his face. "Then please, if you don't have that piece of information, would you mind informing me of where my...friends are?"

Kirrahe took one look at the image and then started laughing. "Well! And I thought I'd seen everything. What you have there, Agent Lawson, is a complete and comprehensive map of every special forces, black ops, and otherwise clandestine government organization safe house on Omega. That one is the batarian SIU, this one is us, that one inside of the Tupari warehouse is Blackwatch, the one in the tower are...some form of asari special forces. I haven't been briefed on their unit, so they may be relatively new. This last one…" He tapped a rather drab looking outlet mall. "Right underneath that is where your friends will be."

Miranda stared at her map, dumbstruck. "How do you know all of this?"

Kirrahe patted her on the back and smiled. "Espionage is a small business, Agent Lawson. You get to know the people you're working with, and against, very intimately, very quickly. Sometimes, it's best to help one another rather than to sabotage, because the outcome may very well be more beneficial to both sides." He chuckled. "Not only that, but who else understands exactly what it is that we  _do_ besides our own? We know how the galaxy works, what keeps it spinning and moving without collapsing in on itself." He frowned and looked over at his men. "There's large comfort in knowing you're not alone in your fight, even if your allies are likely to stab you in the back at any moment. But then…" He turned back to her with a large smile. "...we're prepared to do the same, so it all evens out, don't you think?"

Miranda closed her omni-tool and wiped her face with her armored palm in one slow, agonizing motion. "No. Not really, no." She crossed her arms. "Everything is too convenient. We walk around six blocks and somehow we find  _you,_ and by extension every 'best of the best' unit in the galaxy. It feels manipulative."

"I'd considered that, Agent Lawson. It isn't as 'convenient' as you seem to believe. We didn't choose close proximity real estate just by  _chance,_ you realize." Kirrahe smiled. "Everyone is watching everyone else, and this just makes the entire job so much easier."

Miranda raised a brow. "You...the STG, Blackwatch, the SIU, Cerberus, and...the asari did this collectively? You can't be serious."

"Would you rather it  _not_ be true? You'd have to walk across the station, dodging red vorcha packs and whatever else that chooses to come out of the shadows. There is no doubt in my mind that you would die."

Miranda slapped her palm against her face. "You know, it's things like this that make me seriously question my choice of career."

"I highly doubt it was a choice. Agent Lawson."

Miranda bristled. She hated the mission. She hated how everything had gone straight to hell the moment she'd finally solidified her cover. She hated how she couldn't complete her mission until they were safely off of Omega, spectre intact. If she removed Shepard earlier, she'd be slaughtered or tortured, and then any state secrets she had on her would be at the mercy of non-SA personnel. She couldn't allow that to happen.

* * *

**And that's about as far as I got. I have more notes, of course, but I wasn't in a good place when I stopped writing this. Emotionally, mentally, etc. I'm better now, but this story is a great example of what happens when I over-reach and get way too ambitious for my own good. Recently, there's been an influx of messages and comments asking for an outline or notes of how this story was going to go. And I'm incredibly flattered that anyone even remembered this story at all, let alone were okay enough to accept that I couldn't finish it and just wanted to know what I would've done. It's crazy.**

**I can't write for Mass Effect anymore. It's not fun, and the elements/themes I wanted to tackle are actually way more fitting for "The Legend of Korra" than this ever was, hence the AU. So if you folks liked what I wrote here, and want to read something exponentially better, check out "Repairs, Retrofits and Upgrades" right here on Ao3!**

**Anyway, I'll try and answer the larger questions that people were wondering, and then outline what the plot was gonna be. Fair warning, I may simply not remember what my intention was, but all of this made sense at the time.**

**What's the deal with Aria and Shepard's relationship?**

Aria and Shepard are in an emotionally/mentally abusive relationship, with Aria obviously being the instigator. Shepard is very good at what she does, and Aria likes having her around 'on retainer'. Of course, Karen (this Shepard, in case you forgot) is not a spectre here, so the power dynamics at play are drastically different. Karen can't go against Aria, or she'll be fed to the Vorcha. Aria and Shepard meld when they have sex, but it's a one-way street that she convinced Shepard was totally okay (it's not!). Aria gives her nothing, but she slowly gains more influence over Shepard the more she takes. Of course, Aria isn't a monster, so she does develop an attachment to Karen (hence their omni-tool conversation in the workshop not being horrible), but it's secondary at best.

**Why was Shepard discharged?**

This one is more complicated, and I could get some of the details wrong, so bear with me. Mindoir was a set-up. One which I partially wrote out:

* * *

Alliance Intelligence Agency

Classified Documentation

LEVEL CYPRUS

**[Automated Addition: The file in your possession has been printed a total of 2 time(s), which exceeds the limit placed on documents that hold the CYPRUS designation. Disregarding this limit can and will be considered an act of treason against the Systems Alliance, and is punishable by death. If this is the result of printer error, please inform your superior and have them present when you dispose of the document.]**

OPERATION CALICO

Overview:  **Privateer, pirate and slaver activity in Alliance Colonial Space rose 300% from 2165 to 2168.**  To combat this, the AIA investigated the cause for the spike, and unsurprisingly discovered that nearly every faction operating within our borders were funded by the Hegemony. It is important to note that none of these groups were ever given instruction by the Hegemony, so the Citadel Council could only 'discourage' the Batarians from donating further funding to separatists groups. They did not. At the time, the Alliance lacked the necessary naval strength to garrison a battle group on every human colony, let alone every Alliance sponsored colony. Skirmishes with these groups always resulted in victory with minimal losses, if any, but no single colony was ever attacked en masse. This was most likely due to their lack of communication, as they weren't organized in any conventional form. A joint task force composed of the Alliance's best and brightest, lead by  **DAVID EDWARD ANDERSON (See ICT/SAMC Dossier)** ,was formed with the explicit purpose of eliminating the endless war of attrition. After several months of planning, the CALICO task force submitted their proposal for review and approval. On  **June 4th, 2169, Operation CALICO was greenlit.**  The plan was relatively simple: Bait as many pirates and slavers as possible with a prize they couldn't ignore. An undefended garden world with a population just large enough to fill every freighter in the Traverse.

Candidates:

Demeter

New Canton

**Mindoir [GREEN]**

Eden Prime

Tiptree

Horizon

Under review, Demeter and Eden Primed were deemed too large a sacrifice when other options were possible. New Canton and Horizon were below the population markers, the latter being a new colony. Tiptree's defenses were too ingrained and comprehensive to destabilize effectively. Mindoir proved the perfect candidate. Population 92,180. Minimal GARDIAN defenses and a local militia mostly comprised of retired Alliance Marines.

* * *

That's as far as I got with that, at least explicitly. The Alliance sabotaged the GARDIAN defenses, jammed outgoing signals, and introduced blankets covered in common cold pathogens to weaken the population. Then, when the pirates invaded (think the Skyllian Blitz), it all blew up in the SA's face. They weren't able to wipe out the pirates, and they still lost the entire colony. Burnt to ash. Anderson lead a team of Marines down to the surface to search for 'survivors', knowing full well everyone would be dead. Except they weren't. Karen had survived, and blinded Balak (yeah, he was in play) with a fire-poker when he set her house and parents on fire. She didn't escape the slaver brand, but managed to break free and hide after that. She'd also managed to kill two lowly batarian pirates in the process. Anderson finds her, sees how terrified and lost she is, and (much like Gray Fox to Naomi Hunter from Metal Gear Solid) took her in. Turns out she's a biotic, and then y'know canon stuff happens. Torfan and Akuze both happened to her, but Akuze was the time when the Barracuda's (the IFV) booster rockets didn't work, and it got her team killed.

At some point in 2181, Anderson and Shepard were between deployments and took time to visit one another on leave. Shepard finds him drunk in a bar, apologizing and blabbering. She has no idea what's going on, tries to reassure him...until he starts dropping secrets. The more she learns, the closer she gets to snapping. Eventually, she beats him half to death, steals her gear, and leaves. But she's still got a head full of state secrets (not that she gives a shit about those), so she's still a threat to the Systems Alliance, even if they did declare her dead and brand her a terrorist.

**What's the deal with the slaver mark?**

It was symbolic of how most of her adult life was composed of her being used as a weapon/tool/chess piece in someone else's game, and it served other purposes too. The concept of ownership is skewed with her, since she was a slave once (or nearly was) and still hasn't quite shaken the idea that she's not 'on the run' from her 'masters' (the Alliance, the Hegemony, Aria). It's all kinds of fucked up, but it also makes her far more durable...even if it will eventually kill her. Somehow, she was going to get that fixed, and I don't remember how that was. Also it was a little bit of self-projection (I was in a shitty place when writing most of this), as her bipolar side-effects were a reflection of my own issues. Really, Metal Gear Solid (Snake Eater and the MGS1 in particular) were heavy influences. Karen even has a freaking Star of Bethlehem (a white lily) in her room.

**What's the deal with Cerberus?**

In this continuity, they're still part of the Alliance because there isn't a human councilor. Because Nihlus ended up stopping Saren (who was actually crazy, because removing the Reapers here made things way more fun) and leading a team on the SR-1 composed of more or less the same people as Shepard did in canon. So, this Cerberus is what Cerberus was originally supposed to be: a counter to all the other black ops groups. It's classic espionage. And this does play into Miranda.

You see, Miranda's mission is to assassinate Shepard. And she can't do that until they've gotten Vasir off of Omega, or risk igniting an intragalactic civil war (I feel like Chapter 5 went over this pretty explicitly…? Maybe?) where the battle lines are really bloody. At the end, or one of the many versions of the end I never quite figured out, she either has her orders rescinded just before she goes to kill Karen, or Vasir stops her (since she found out about the plot), and through some clever political maneuvering, Miranda ends up as the first human spectre (since all the credit for escaping Omega with Vasir goes to Miranda...because Karen doesn't want to be in the public eye again.). Either way, Miri ends up being the first human spectre. Not Shepard.

**What's the deal with Sederis?**

Sederis and Vasir were lovers a long time ago, and were huntress partners. The Council feared Sederis' mental instability and chose Vasir for spectre, which caused them to split. Sederis is actually a Daywind, and absorbs people's power and memories/personas every time she 'feeds'. The more she eats, the stronger and more insane she gets. She's a literal biotic God, and the key to wiping out the Red Vorcha. She can also alter memories and snap a person's neck with her mind. I can't remember what happens to her in the end, but it was probably that she decided to sacrifice herself (and her growing madness and 'souls') to ensure Vasir escaped. I know, it's that horrible lesbian tragic romance trope (WHICH I HATE), but Sederis was an insane psychopath and their relationship ended centuries ago...so...slight exception?

She has nukes, and...uses them at some point to wipe out the Red Vorcha, or something. Maybe. I forget what those were for.

**What's the deal with the Red Vorcha?**

According to the treaty of Farixen, they're like...class 3 or something WMDs, and were not part of anyone's plan. They were supposed to be infertile, but 'life finds a way'. In the end, they were going to be exterminated by a combined efforts of every willing body on Omega, combined with Sederis melting a lot of them at once.

**What's the deal with the graybox?**

Okay, so here's where things get...really complicated. Vasir got orders from Tevos, the asari councilor, to retrieve information that Aria has by using a Daywind to extract it (because Aria wouldn't expect it, thanks to the context of the 'failed assassination'). Soon after, she gets the SAME orders from the Shadow Broker (who is an asari in this continuity). But here's the big twist:

The graybox is junk data. There's literally nothing on it. Aria knew  _nothing._ The whole point was to get Vasir killed on Omega and PURPOSELY INCITE AN INTRAGALACTIC CIVIL WAR by a shadow group of powerful, like minded asari who've been planning this for centuries. In the chaos, the new Siari Union (everything should be connected...and under one rule, right? Eh?) was going to conquer the galaxy with a fleet of hyper-advanced ships they'd been building in secret. Doctor Ceres is actually a Siari agent (they have agents everywhere) who's in the dark about Vasir...or...something. I forget why she didn't just kill her. There was a reason, trust me. Probably something to do with absolute proof.

This was the junction point for a sequel that I wasn't sure I was insane enough to write where the plot succeeds, even though Shepard go Vasir off Omega, and the galaxy is plunged into that war. Illos becomes a rebel base, blah blah blah, never figured that out entirely.

Aaaaanyway, the better ending here was that the Siari Union was exposed thanks to Vasir and Shepard, and the war was averted.

**What's the deal with the mad prophet?**

He's actually providing foreshadowing for the entire plot and giving spoilers that are coded. Additionally, he's a Cerberus plant (unwittingly) because his broadcast is...fancy or something. Can't remember why it wasn't jammed. Anyway, the plan was to inject a distress call to Cerberus between video/audio transmissions of the mad prophet, since Cerberus actually does that in canon to send secret messages to one another. It would have signaled what was really going on to Cerberus, and they'd have mobilized a strike team or...something….to help extract our heroes.

**Why is Garrus there?**

Because he's Garrus, it was gonna be Shakarian (yes, Karen identifies as bisexual...or...pansexual I guess. Because multiple species… She's queer, okay?), and why the fuck not.

**What was gonna happen in the end?**

Eventually, Shepard was going to be forced into the leadership role of the resistance, which she hates, and rally the entirety of the station (including all of those black ops groups who were forced to work together, which wasn't so hard because in the espionage world you get to know the other guys really well. Look it up that's a real thing) to "Take Omega Back" (see what I did there?). The succeed, giving Shepard enough time to go down to the power generators for the GARDIAN defenses to have a one on one with Aria...who she manages to get a biotic inhibitor on. Karen puts one on herself, too, because she needs time to actually beat Aria's influence out of her head instead of just one-shotting her. Bareknuckled fist fight happens, Karen leaves her to die with a knife in her gut. Because that's the worst kind of death for Aria. Torn apart by a mob is meaningless. Not a warrior's death.

Our heroes GTFO via shuttle to Vasir's ship and book it back to the Citadel while Omega is still fighting that civil war. Aria manages to co-opt Shepard's rallying cry and regains control of Omega...which would possibly have lead to a larger expansion of the 'pirate fleet' from Operation CALICO, but with the entire Terminus, some Salarians, all the humans, some asari, the elcor, the hanar, etc. All the subjugated races, and a few factions that were sick of the Council's shit. But that probably wasn't gonna happen. Either way, Omega doesn't change. Aria still retains power, but Karen has escaped.

Then, Karen forgives Anderson for selfish reasons (she can't live her life hating someone forever; it'd only hurt her) but never wants to see him again. She joins up with C-SEC, because that actually has some nobility there and she'd get to work with Garrus, after turning down Vasir for her spectre recommendation. At some point (I think the epilogue) she and Vasir go on one last mission to take out Balak and burn the colony he was hiding in. Revenge offers closure, but not catharsis.

Oh and there was gonna be a boss battle with that Yahg who originally became the Shadow Broker at some point. I think it was in zero-g.

**What's the deal with Zaeed?**

In a tribute to the late Robin Sachs, Zaeed's VA, he was intended NEVER to get injured or shot or even grazed through the entire story. He was also totally going to blow up that tupari machine.

**And that's about it! If you have any more questions or want clarification, please feel free to ask and I'll get to as much as I can! Thanks for your interest, and once again if you liked this and want to read something exponentially better, go check out "Repairs, Retrofits and Upgrades". About 80% of this story got recycled into elements for that one. And they manifest in waaaaaaaaaaaay better ways.  Oh, and feel free to contact me/follow me on my tumblr!  I do stuff on it!  progmanx.tumblr.com  Creative, I know.**


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